


Two Coins, Silver

by Butterfly



Series: Realignment [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-23
Updated: 2008-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not exactly the honeymoon of anyone's dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Martha does not, in fact, live in Hyde Park.

**Author's Note:**

> AU after _Doctor Who_ 3x13 - "Last of the Time Lords". Some plot elements and lines from "The Voyage of the Damned", written by Russell T Davies.

“If you could just tell me the street they live on, I could take us there,” Rose said, leaning over the Doctor's shoulder – he was staring down at the TARDIS console with a great look of betrayal. “We could get out and walk or go by tube or... anything, really.”

“It's... they... it's their house,” the Doctor said. “We should be there. Right now.”

“Maybe Martha's parents are better off than my mum used to be, but I still doubt that they live in the middle of Hyde Park,” Rose pointed out. They'd just spent a good five minutes standing outside while the Doctor turned in circles and tried to figure out exactly what had gone wrong, before they'd headed back into the ship in hopes of finding an answer there. “Just... tell me the street and we can just go there like anyone else would.”

“For a whole year, the TARDIS only went where I wanted it to,” the Doctor said, pressing a button twice, frowning hard. “And now it's acting up again – the only connection is... but that's nonsense.”

“Doctor, what are you going on about?”

“I'm not sure,” the Doctor said, glaring down at the screen. “Maybe we _should_ walk.”

“And where exactly would we be walking?” Rose asked.

The Doctor coughed into his hand, looking away from her. “I'm... not entirely certain.”

“You were just there!”

“That's part of why this is so odd – we _should_ still be there. All I did was move us forward in time. We should still be at the Jones's home. We're not. And the TARDIS is refusing to name our last location.”

“You don't know where Martha lives?”

“Of course I do!” the Doctor said. “I just don't happen to recall precisely where it is at the moment.”

“Maybe I should go back outside and see if it's really Christmas Day,” Rose said.

The Doctor puffed up and looked about ready to say something in his defense... and then he wilted as she stared at him. He raised a shoulder up in an uncertain shrug. “That may not be such a bad idea,” he allowed. Rose stroked his shoulder – his muscles felt coiled and tense under her touch and she could understand why this would worry him so much. He hadn't told the TARDIS to move them in space, only in time. They should still be in front of Martha's house, if that's where they'd been before.

Rose stepped out of the TARDIS, deciding to tuck her key back inside her shirt, and shut the door firmly behind herself. She glanced around, looking for someone to ask about the date, but there didn't seem to be anyone about. She sighed and headed along the grassy lawn toward a path.

She couldn't find anyone – she'd come all the way out to Knightsbridge and there still wasn't a soul to be found. Even on Christmas Day, there should be some movement in the street. There was nothing.

This was bigger than the TARDIS getting things a bit wrong.

Rose started down Sloane Street, fighting the shivers that wanted to race down her spine. She also resisted the urge to call out to the empty streets, not sure that she wanted to know what would answer.

It was when she reached Pont that she noticed a flicker of motion out of the corner of her eye. She turned to follow it and she could see the faintest hint of a beige flutter disappearing around a corner. She headed for it, jogging as quickly and quietly as she could manage.

When she turned the corner, she saw a woman leaning back against a tree, which couldn't be any good for her outfit. She wore nice clothes, this one, and her jacket was a very pale cream color up close, not beige at all. Rose wasn't sure how good it would look covered over in bits of bark and moss.

“What's happened here?” Rose asked. “Where's everyone gone?”

“It's nothing to worry about,” the woman said – she had fine, blonde hair that was half-hidden by a pale hat and her reassuring smile could use some work. “Most people decided to leave town for the holiday.”

“Not you?” Rose asked.

“I'm here for you,” she said, with a slight laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm to give you a warning, Rose Tyler.”

“How do you know my name?” Rose asked.

“I'm from your future,” she said. “Please don't ask me to say more than that – the timelines are currently quite fragile.”

Rose opened her mouth to ask why and then realized that that was exactly the sort of question that the woman wouldn't be able to answer. “How am I to believe you?” Rose asked instead. “Can you offer anything to prove that you're telling the truth?”

“You took the Time Vortex into yourself to save the alien known as the Doctor,” she said promptly, as if she'd expected to need to say it. Well, if she were really from the future, she would know, wouldn't she?

“All right, then,” Rose said, willing to at least hear the woman out, as anyone who would know that bit of information had to have spoken to either herself, the Doctor, Jack, or Martha. Unless the Doctor's tongue had been much freer than she'd ever have guessed. “What's this warning?”

“There's a ship overhead,” the woman said. “It's very dangerous. You and the Doctor should investigate it, that's only right, but you must promise to be careful, Rose. More lives than just your own depend on it.”

“Is it an invasion?” Rose asked.

“I don't know,” the woman said, spreading her gloved hands out in front of her. “I only know what you told me to say. You _must_ be careful. And you need to watch out for him – protect him.”

“I can do that,” Rose said. No one needed to make her promise to look after the Doctor.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding profoundly grateful. “You should head back now. I don't know how much time you have left.”

Rose nodded, fixing the woman's face in her memory so that she'd recognize her again in the future. “I'll be seeing you again.”

“There's no doubt about that,” she said.

Rose started to turn away and then she paused. “Can you tell me your name?”

“I think it's too soon for that,” the woman said. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time,” Rose said. She hurried as she left this time, almost running through the deserted streets. Hyde Park seemed so cold and barren once she reached the grass and it started to rain as she passed the first trees.

Spotting the TARDIS just where she'd last seen it, in the middle of a grassy bit of nowhere, was a bigger relief than she'd ever admit out loud. She unlocked the door and slipped inside, feeling the warmth of home creep back into her bones.

The Doctor, too, was just where she'd left him, staring at the console, pressing buttons and muttering to himself. His hair was slightly more unkempt than when she'd left, though, and one of his shirt buttons had been undone, likely without him consciously thinking about it.

“Doctor, I just ran into the most peculiar woman,” Rose said, stepping up next to him and resting her hand over his. “She said that she was from my future and-”

“Don't!” the Doctor said, twisting away from her, his brows drawn down. “We can't know our future, Rose.”

“She wanted to give me a warning,” Rose said. “Wouldn't say anything else.”

“Well,” the Doctor said. “She shouldn't even have done that.”

“Do you want to hear the warning?” Rose asked.

“Oh, if you must,” the Doctor said. “But if you see her again, don't let her tell you more.”

“I don't need to tell you,” Rose said, feeling a bit put-out. “Not if you're going to make such a fuss about it.”

“If you already know, there's no point in not telling me,” the Doctor said, reaching out and tracing his fingers over her wedding bracelet. “Isn't one of your quaint human marriage customs about sharing information?”

“Another of our _quaint_ customs is making husbands who behave like gits sleep by themselves,” Rose said darkly, suddenly very aware of the fact that while she and the Doctor had slept together, they hadn't yet 'slept' together.

“That wasn't an insult,” the Doctor said quickly. “I think it's sweet. I truly do.”

“Are you planning on sharing everything with me?” Rose asked.

“Anything you'd like to know,” he said. His hand was still resting over her wrist, just as cool as the strands of the bracelet still were. “All that I have is yours now, Rose. The TARDIS, my wealth of knowledge, anything that I've acquired in my years of travel – it belongs to you just as much as it does to me.”

“Oh,” Rose said. She wasn't really sure what else she could say to that. The Doctor was offering her everything, the way he always had, since the moment they'd met. And, just like always, all she had to offer in return was herself.

“You said she gave you a warning,” the Doctor said.

“There's a ship in orbit,” Rose said. “And it might be dangerous.”

The Doctor took in a sharp breath and then sprang into motion, twisting one of the dials on the console in front of him and banging on the monitor. The screen flickered twice and then started saying something new – Rose was intensely disappointed that none of the symbols on the screen were the few that she'd been taught by the Doctor before Canary Wharf. She needed to learn more of his language, in a more organized fashion than she'd managed before.

“There _is_ a ship,” he confirmed. “But I can't see anything wrong with it from down here. We'll have to take a look. If the TARDIS will let us, of course.” The last bit was in a fierce and angry growl. He started mucking about with the controls again, occasionally calling out for Rose to hit a button that was too far away for him to easily reach.

It took much longer than normal for the ship to start making the traditional noises, but it did work in time. The Doctor wiped off his forehead when they were finally moving and Rose pressed against his side, leaning her head against his upper arm.

“We should be up there soon, hopefully in a conveniently empty room,” the Doctor said. For once, the Doctor hit the mark – when they opened the door, they appeared to be in a bit of a serving nook. There were empty, clean glasses on a sideboard and everything.

“She said it was dangerous,” Rose reminded the Doctor, unable to keep herself from smiling. Danger and spaceships and something new... she was definitely back with the Doctor.

“It always is,” he said, returning her smile. He held out his arm for her and, together, they slipped out into what appeared to be something of a main hall.

It was a beautiful room – dark wood walls, high ceilings, everything covered over in Christmas decorations. There were ferns by the windows and they even looked real. The windows didn't, though – they seemed to be covered in a golden film. This was apparently a space ship, but it looked like any old posh room.

And the people looked posh, too, all dressed up. Rose could see a blonde woman with a drinks tray and men in black tie and lots of women in slightly old-fashioned evening gowns. It was just like all the parties she'd never gotten to go to before meeting the Doctor.

They passed by what Rose had taken for statues, and she startled a bit when one of them moved slightly, straightening up and appearing to look the Doctor right in the eyes. Rose tightened her grip on the Doctor's arm and they shared a curious glance. They passed by a round red couch with... little pillows with Union Flags on them in the center. There were small wooden tables and chairs, chandeliers up on the ceiling, and garlands strung up along the walls.

Rose's attention was drawn for a moment by a flash of red – a recognizably alien man was chatting with one of the ladies. He was small, with bright red skin and bumps or spikes all over his head and face. No hair anywhere that she could see.

She noticed a life saver on the wall that bore the name 'Titanic' and that was... a peculiar decorating choice. She and the Doctor continued along and finally found a window that actually was a window... it was looking out onto space. Specifically, it was looking down on the very recognizable shape of the Earth.

There was an interesting design in the center of the window – which was done up a bit like a ship port, but fancier and with expensive-looking glass – a moon coming out of what might be a ship, with two star-shapes in the middle and some underneath.

“Attention all passengers,” said a voice over a loudspeaker. “The Titanic is now in orbit above Sol 3, also known as Earth. Population: human. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Christmas.”

“Did he just say 'Titanic'?” Rose asked the Doctor in a whisper. The Doctor nodded, staring out the window towards Earth. Rose bit her lip. Not just an odd decorating choice, then. “I've seen that movie, Doctor. It sinks. Why would anyone name their spaceship after a ship that sank?”

“I don't know,” the Doctor said. “Not yet anyway. I do, however, get the feeling that the two of us are very underdressed for this particular trip. How would you feel about nipping back into the TARDIS for a change of clothing?”

“I don't see any other women in trousers,” Rose agreed, as they headed back. “They do look human, though, Doctor. Well, most of them.”

“Humans don't have a monopoly on beige-brown bipedal,” the Doctor said. “From the look of things, I'd guess that it's a species that looks human on the outside but has the internal organs in slightly different places.”

“Like Time Lords.”

“Well, nowhere near as advanced,” the Doctor said, in that tone of voice that always made Rose want to roll her eyes, as he opened the door to the TARDIS and waved Rose in ahead of himself. They started off in the direction of the wardrobe. “I doubt they have more than seven senses, at most.”

“I do just fine with five,” Rose said, rubbing her bracelet.

“Considering that you're the functional equivalent of deaf, dumb and blind, you do unbelievably well,” the Doctor said, as if he were agreeing with her.

He kept on chattering as they made their way to the wardrobe room and Rose made sure that she tucked away any potentially useful information – the Doctor had never been given socks as a present and always wondered what that would be like, apparently – but most of her concentration was focused on that first comment of his.

Functionally deaf, dumb and blind. It was true enough, when she thought about it – the Doctor could sense and know things that she didn't have a clue existed – but it was odd to realize that he thought of her as being like that. That he still thought that about her, after everything they'd been through. She wasn't sure why she would have thought his opinion had changed, but she had assumed that he would...

She wasn't even sure what she wanted him to think. He'd said that he believed that she was his equal, but that didn't mean that they were the _same_. They'd never been the same. He would always be smarter than she was, would always know more than she did. It didn't make him better, but it made them different. Still, it was bothering her, for reasons that she couldn't quite pin down.

They separated when they got to the room – he headed off to his section, while Rose headed toward the dresses. It looked like more clothing had appeared since the last time that she'd been here – from Martha's stay on the TARDIS, no doubt. Rose ran her hand along the rack, stopping when she reached a dress that felt right. It was an even darker red than her shirt she was wearing; nearly black, really. It lifted up over the right knee with soft ruffles. The neckline was a bit low, but not indecently so – she should still fit in well enough with those people on the ship, though she'd probably be taken as more than a little daring.

It fit her perfectly, of course. Nothing she'd tried on from this room had ever failed to fit well. It hugged her curves without making her look like she was for sale – something she'd had to deal with on more than one planet – and the color worked well against her skin. It had sleeves that ended at the elbow – she'd noticed the women in the hallway wearing gloves, so she snagged a pair that were the same color as the dress and slipped them on. There was a pair of comfortable ankle boots that matched the dress, naturally, and they were just her size. Appropriate for a party or for running for her life, Rose thought, amused. The TARDIS seemed to share her mystery woman's feelings about this version of the Titanic.

She was doing up her hair in the mirror when she heard the Doctor headed back her way – she turned to face him and her breath caught in her throat. He was just wearing black tie. It shouldn't be anything to get her so worked up. His dinner jacket looked so gorgeous on him, though, the simple white and black making his sharp features stand out even more. Elegant, Rose decided. That was how he looked right now – he would fit right in with all of those men in that room, at least as far as looks went.

His gaze swept over her, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. The heat in his eyes was making her blush and if she didn't have that woman's words in her head about the danger that ship was posing, she might very well have asked the Doctor if he wanted to try something messy and human with her.

“You look magnificent,” he said, his voice slightly huskier than usual. He reached forward and brushed his fingers just below her throat, where she was wearing a silver necklace with a snowflake design. Her TARDIS key was safely tucked in a pocket that she'd discovered on an inside panel of the dress. “Like the Greek goddess Aphrodite, coming to bless mortal man with her abundant beauty.”

Rose knew that her flush was deepening – she could feel the warmth of it spreading across her skin. The Doctor left off playing with her necklace and that made it a bit easier to breathe.

“I... I reckon we should find out what's going on,” Rose said. The Doctor narrowed his eyes a bit and then nodded. This time, Rose was the first one out the door of the TARDIS. “We should probably split up. We'll be able to talk to more people that way and find out what's wrong with this ship a bit sooner.”

“If you like,” the Doctor said. She couldn't tell whether or not he was disappointed. They headed back into the main room, where a Christmas song was playing and Rose gave the Doctor an encouraging smile before turning away from him and heading toward a clump of two couples, hoping to get a bit of good gossip out of them.

She didn't look back.


	2. In which the Doctor does some solo investigating.

Something had spooked Rose. Perhaps, as he'd been half-afraid of, he'd moved too quickly when he'd promised himself to her. If he were going to be fully and completely honest with himself, he was a bit spooked by that as well.

He still wasn't certain that he'd be able to keep his promise to her. Even now, everything inside him was screaming that he should go to Rose and shield her from whatever danger it was that they'd been warned about – he didn't much like the notion of people coming to her present and upsetting Rose.

Still, she'd wanted to split up. They'd done that countless times when they'd travelled together, before. One or the other of them would wander off to investigate a noise or something odd. It was... the way that things had been. Rose's independent streak had been something that he'd managed to adjust to, over time.

Of course, then he'd spent a year travelling with Martha Jones. Martha Jones had, quite possibly, been the most responsible and trustworthy companion that he'd ever had or, at least, the most dependable one since Nyssa had decided to leave him. He'd never had to worry about Martha wandering off to do something that he didn't know about or whether or not she was getting herself into danger by just... being herself.

In comparison, Rose was a bloody nuisance.

He glanced into the main hall and spotted her and his lips tightened when he noticed the way one of the men she was standing near was glancing down at the swell of her breasts rather than her face. He resolutely turned away, and noticed that something of an advert was playing on a small screen a little ways into this nook he'd found.

Max Capricorn was the owner of this line of ships, apparently. The Doctor tried to think of whether or not he'd heard the name before but it wasn't ringing any bells for him. Not _that_ famous, then.

There was a rather tasteless lit-up display of a ship right next to the screen. In fact, once he scratched the surface, rather a lot of what was on this ship was devoid of anything resembling good taste. All of the class seemed to be a surface veneer.

The Doctor headed into the main hall, exchanging a Christmas greeting with a man in a dinner jacket. Some couples were dancing, others were eating – it was a proper party and quite crowded. Rose was still chatting with the man who'd been looking down her dress, but his gaze was on her face now, which was... something of an improvement. The Doctor wondered what Rose was telling him that had him so fascinated, but she'd wanted to do this separately and-

he wanted to respect her wishes.

As he wandered along, he overheard several conversations, and his attention was briefly caught by a dark-haired man who appeared to be doing business over the phone – the Doctor wondered whether this society had independently decided to invent a long-distance communication device that translated as a 'phone' or if it had been named that because of their apparent interest in Earth.

He noticed more of those robots done-up as angels and decided that they might be a more reliable source of information than the guests.

He was right about that. In short order, he found out that the robots were informational devices called 'Heavenly Hosts', that the ship had come from the planet Sto in order to view the more primitive culture of Earth, that Max Capricorn either failed to do enough research when naming his ships or liked to challenge fate, and that the Host appeared to be malfunctioning.

Unfortunately, the Host was dragged away by some of the ship's crew before the Doctor was able to try to fix it with his sonic screwdriver. Shame, really. It had been so helpful already. He'd had high hopes for getting more out of it. Still, what he had would probably impress Rose. Unless she'd found out something better.

She probably had. She'd probably figured out what was wrong with the ship. She was probably laughing with that man about how incredibly stupid her travelling companion was and how she really should upgrade to a better class. _He_ would probably be willing to take off that dress of hers tonight, if she wanted.

Or, the Doctor considered, it was entirely possible that he was overreacting. She'd flirted before. Just because this was the first time he'd seen her flirt with a man since Mickey had decided to stay in Pete's World didn't mean... anything.

A sharp clatter of glass and then a raised voice drew the Doctor's attention.

The business man who'd been on the phone earlier was berating a blonde waitress for spilling on his jacket. He was really quite insufferably horrible to her, but she bore up under it with remarkable patience and endurance. Reminded him a bit of Martha. Rose, he thought, would likely have picked up the tray and smacked the man square in the face with it.

The woman had gotten down to clean up the broken glass, so the Doctor hurried over after the man had left, picking up some pieces and putting them on her tray.

“Careful,” he said, smiling at her. She was absolutely tiny – he'd noticed that when she was standing up. Her outfit was covered in ruffles – Rose might have liked it, as long as she didn't need to serve idiots drinks while she was wearing it. “There we go.”

“Thank you, sir, I can manage,” she said, looking down at the broken glass, though not before he noticed that her eyes were quite a lovely light green-grey.

“I never said you couldn't,” the Doctor said. She was, after all, very obviously a tremendously capable woman. “I'm the Doctor, by the way.”

“Astrid, sir. Astrid Peth,” the waitress – Astrid – told him. She looked up to meet his eyes and smiled. She had quite delicate features, Astrid Peth.

“Nice to meet you, Astrid. Merry Christmas,” the Doctor said, finding it very easy to smile back at her.

“Merry Christmas, sir,” she said brightly and that... that wouldn't do at all.

“Just Doctor. No sir,” he corrected her.

“Enjoying the cruise?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. I suppose,” he said. He shrugged a bit. “I don't know.”

“That doesn't sound like you're having fun,” she said.

“Well, you know how it is when you don't know anyone,” he said. She was wearing a tiny necklace around her neck, with a shiny little bob on it. In his opinion, it was prettier than the expensive and elaborate jewellery being worn by most of the passengers.

“Are you travelling alone?” she asked him.

“Oh- oh, no. I'm not, actually,” the Doctor said, not quite sure why he was stumbling over his words. “I'm here with... well, with my wife. That's her, over there with that... man. She's the one wearing that dark red gown. Rose Tyler, my wife. We only recently were married... I suppose that you could call this our honeymoon.”

“Well, that explains why I haven't seen you before and why you haven't met the rest of the guests,” Astrid said, looking over in Rose's direction. Her smile had faded slightly, which was disappointing. The glass had finally all been picked up, so they stood. “This must be your first night out of your suite.”

The Doctor hesitated for a moment before agreeing with her, distracted by the notion of spending several days and nights locked up with Rose in a private suite. He'd been thinking about spending some time alone with Rose when she'd first turned around in that dress – it delicately skimmed all her curves and he'd felt the glimmering desire to press his mouth against all of the luxurious ins and outs of her body.

“What about you?” he asked, trying to push away those dangerous thoughts. “Long way from home, planet Sto.”

“Doesn't feel that different,” she said, her light dimming further. “Spent three years working at the space port diner, travel all the way here, still waiting on tables.”

She headed off to one of those table – one that was in front of a large window to the outside view – and started picking up abandoned glasses.

“No shore leave?” he asked, glancing out at the Earth spinning below them.

“No,” she said, with a wry twist to her mouth. “We're not allowed. They can't afford the insurance. I just wanted to try it. Just once. I used to watch the ships heading out to the stars, always dreamt of...” she trailed off for a moment, staring down at the planet. “...sounds daft.”

“You dreamt of another sky,” the Doctor said. Like Rose or Martha or Susan or... himself, for that matter. Astrid was one of those people who needed to experience the universe, who _yearned_ for it. She was wasted here, on this ship, waiting on people who didn't even deserve to look at her. Just as Rose had been wasted in that useless little shop of hers. “New sun. New air. New life. A whole universe, teeming with life. Why stand still when there's a world of life out there?”

He turned around and rested against the window sill, watching Astrid's face – she was filled with such deep longing. Oh, she couldn't stay here, trapped on this ship, trapped in this life. He wouldn't allow it. A person with such depth of emotion needed so much more.

Then she seemed to shake out of the spell, resignation filling her expression again.

“You travel a lot, you and your wife?” she asked him, with a more distant and professional smile in place.

“All the time,” he said, wondering how to get the real Astrid back, not this watered-down on-the-job version. “We never stop.”

“You must be rich,” she said, glancing around the room – glancing over at Rose who was _still_ talking to that same man. What could possibly be so fascinating about one simple person from Sto? The Doctor was so much more intelligent and impressive and, currently, much more handsome than anyone else she could possibly wish to speak to – why didn't she see that?

“Haven't got a penny,” he said. Astrid was looking at him again like he was some inexplicable and interesting creature. She had wonderful powers of insight. It was, he thought, the perfect time to let her in on something of a truth about him. He lowered his voice and leaned in toward her. “Stowaways.”

“Both of you?” she asked, her eyes widening, her fine eyebrows lifting up. “You're kidding.”

It took a moment, but after she asked a couple more times, she seemed willing to believe him.

“But how did you get onboard?” she asked, her nose wrinkling up. It struck him as a very familiar expression but he couldn't quite place why.

“I've got this... ship,” he said. He loved this bit – her reaction was everything that he could have wished it to be – he'd definitely impressed her. “We came up here, saw the party and thought... why not?”

“I should report you,” she teased. He smiled at her and dared her to – instead, she smiled back at him. Fellow conspirators, then. Brilliant. “I'll get you a drink,” she said, voice low. “On the house.”

As she was leaving, she turned and gave him another luminous smile and he couldn't have stopped himself from grinning back for anything in the universe.

Remarkable woman.

He looked over at where Rose was and debated with himself about interrupting her conversation. It had gone on for quite a while now, after all. She was laughing lightly and though he couldn't actually hear her, he knew what she sounded like when she laughed that way. It was utterly, adorably charming. That man was, quite likely, trying to devise every possible way of keeping Rose with him for as long as possible. Hearing Rose laugh was like hearing the music of the spheres – captivating and unforgettable.

Luckily, before he did anything stupid that she might yell at him about later, he heard another kind of laughter from the other side of the room – the ugly laughter that accompanied people being right bastards. He followed the sound of that and saw a group of people laughing and looking over at a male/female couple that was sitting and eating at one of the cloth-covered tables.

“Just ignore them,” he heard the man say, and the Doctor slipped into a chair next to him.

“Something's tickled them,” the Doctor said, resting his arms on the table.

“They told us it was fancy dress,” the woman said. Her dark hair was done up high and she was wearing a purple outfit with white fringes – the man wore black with purple sashes and gold stars. All in all, they looked much more interesting and personable than the people laughing at them. “Very funny, I'm sure.”

Yes, the braying group over at the other table clearly did think that they were very clever indeed to have intentionally tricked a pair of people into doing something considered embarrassing.

“They're just picking on us because we haven't paid,” the man said, touching the woman reassuringly on the arm. He turned toward the Doctor. “We won our tickets in a competition.”

They continued on, explaining exactly what they'd done to win the tickets and, when she mentioned the show 'By the Light of the Asteroid', the Doctor remembered one particularly good run that the show had done which had involved the twins on the show discovering that one of them had an unknown biological father and the search they'd gone through to find him. Those actors had been absolutely stunning at times. Fantastic range of emotion.

“So, we're not good enough for them,” the man explained, gesturing over at the other table. “They think we should be in Steerage.”

That those people should be allowed to carry on that way did not, to the Doctor, feel right. The thought that someone should do something quickly evolved to the notion that _he_ should do one specific thing.

A bit of a trick with the sonic screwdriver set off the champagne bottle at the other table, liberally spraying the laughing idiots, and winning him the friendship of Marvin and Foon, who seemed to be quite a lovely couple.

They chatted for a bit longer and then an announcement came over the loudspeaker regarding shore leave and Marvin and Foon happened to be in the group that was going down. When they asked if he was coming along, it was easy to say yes.

And just as they were walking over to the tour guide, they bumped into Astrid again. She had that drink for him, she told him with a wide smile, but he had a better idea. He pulled the tray out of her hands and placed it on a nearby table, herding Astrid over to the group and claiming a place for both of them with the psychic paper. She'd come all this way – she deserved to be on an alien planet.

The tour guide handed him two teleport bracelets and he held one of them up in front of Astrid.

“I'll get the sack,” she said, looking worried.

“Brand new sky,” he countered, knowing what she would do. She slipped the bracelet onto her slender wrist and activated it, while the Doctor did the same for himself.

The tour guide introduced himself as Mr. Copper and gave them a brief and intensely inaccurate version of what Christmas meant to the people on Earth. He was, apparently, an expert in 'Earthonomics'. If he was what passed for an expert, the education of Sto was poorly lacking.

When they were just about ready to go, a small red man who called himself 'Bannakaffalatta' joined the group. The Doctor opened his mouth to protest and then recalled how empty London had seemed to be when he and Rose had been down there. Bannakaffalatta might not cause a riot after all.

Sure enough, after they teleported down, the streets were eerily devoid of late-night shoppers or foolish drunks. This Christmas was easily the most peculiar he'd seen in London. No people, not anywhere.

Mr. Copper waved a credit card and warned of possible Earth dangers and he might not be wrong – this group of tourists was unlikely to be eaten or to be attacked by turkeys, but something was keeping the streets of London unnaturally empty. Perhaps he should have questioned Rose more about her mysterious friend from the future.

“It's beautiful,” Astrid said.

“Really? Do you think so? It's just a street,” the Doctor said. Not even one of the city's better streets. “The Pyramids are beautiful... the museums...”

“But it's a different planet,” she said, her boots clicking on the stone as she walked about looking enthralled. “I'm standing on a different planet. There's _concrete_ and shops... _alien shops_!”

“Real alien shops!” She spun around in a circle, bouncing a bit, her arms spread outward as if to reach toward the entire city. She came right next to him and pointed upwards. “Look! No stars in the sky. And it smells. It _stinks_!”

Never had anyone been quite so delighted by London's stench. It was... enchanting, the way she found this tiny human street so wonderful.

“It's amazing,” she continued to gush, turning and throwing herself into his arms. She smelled of peppermint and fulfilled dreams and seemed as light as a basket of feathers. “Thank you!”

“Come on, then,” the Doctor said, looking around at the boring old London streets with a fresh eye. “Let's have a look.”

It was second nature to slip his hand into hers and tug her along.

He finally spotted someone – a man selling newspapers. He headed along in that direction, Astrid's palm warm against his.

“Hello, there!” the Doctor said, glancing about and noticing a board reading 'London deserted'. Yes, he'd noticed, thank you. “But... where's everybody gone?”

“Oooh, scared,” the man said, tapping his fingers on his tall stack of unsold newspapers.

“Right, yes,” the Doctor said, looking around a bit and sticking his hands in his pockets. “Scared of what?”

“Where've you been living?” the man asked. The Doctor wasn't sure how well 'I skipped most of the year' would go over. “London, at Christmas... not safe, is it?”

Because of aliens, the man informed them both helpfully. London had remembered the last two years quite well, apparently, and had actually learnt from their lesson. It was... a bit hopeful, really, seeing humans begin to realize that reality of alien life, though he wished that it hadn't been because of attempted invasions. This newspaper seller and the Queen were the only souls brave enough to remain in London.

And Rose's mystery woman. And, of course, anyone who was too poor to leave the city for the holiday, though they likely wouldn't be hanging around in this section of town. If Jackie had still lived here, he couldn't quite imagine her leaving. Of course, Jackie had known just who had stopped the two previous attacks at Christmas, so she'd had a bit of an edge.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do much to reassure the man that nothing would happen this year, not after being warned about something dangerous on the Titanic. He was still trying to think of something appropriate to say when he felt the teleports turn on again.

That seemed a bit fast, even for a cruise ship stop.

“I'm sorry about that,” Mr. Copper was saying. “A bit of a problem.”

Mr. Copper started collecting bracelets from the various tourists. While he was doing that, a member of crew came up to tell the group that power fluctuations had made it too dangerous for them to stay on the planet. Afraid, perhaps, that they wouldn't be able to return the guests to the ship, the Doctor guessed.

Astrid thanked him for the trip and hurried off. She might still be scared that this lot of idiots would sack her.

The Doctor went up to the crew to return his teleport bracelet and took the opportunity to ask about those fluctuations. This could be the danger that they'd been warned about.

Their answer was... less than satisfactory.

He looked around the room, hoping that they'd spent enough time separated that Rose would be all right with him joining her again. He didn't see her. That was... odd. No one else was wearing anything like her dress, so she should stand out like a bloodstain on cream carpeting.

He couldn't see the man that Rose had been talking to earlier, either. The Doctor wracked his brain, trying to pull that man's appearance back into his mind's eye – tallish, though not quite as tall as the Doctor himself. Ash-blond, wavy hair that wasn't like her type had been previously, but he had been a _bit_ pretty. Black tie, of course, but that wasn't helpful.

Nothing. Not a sign. There were blondes all over the place and none of them was the right one.

They were both gone.

Rose was gone.


	3. In which someone's mind is on business.

“And they've been acting strangely this entire trip?” Rose asked quietly, glancing over at one of the... Host, her new friend Damins had called them. She made certain to keep a smile on her face. She didn't know how well they might read people, so she couldn't afford to give anything away.

“Dangerously so. One of them nearly broke Lady Jamilla's neck,” Damins confided in her. He was a robotics engineer, he'd told her a bit earlier, but the crew had refused to let him look at the inner workings of any of the Host. They'd told him to go back to the party and not worry about anything. “And then the crew dragged it off. It's all quite suspicious.”

“But you haven't told anyone else about it,” Rose said. She tried not to let her frustration with that show – would he really have done _nothing_ if she hadn't been here? “Why not?”

“The crew clearly aren't going to be of any help,” he said. “There's no one to complain to, not at the moment. That planet down there is a Level Five planet, a primitive planet under the protection of the Shadow Proclamation. They'd be of no help in an emergency. And the only person with enough power to contact Sto or any responsible party from this distance is... well, to be perfectly frank, he's a wanker and I wouldn't trust him with my drink, let alone my life.”

“Well, I can help,” Rose said, not mentioning that she was a native of the planet that he thought was so useless. He gave her something of an astonished look.

“You really believe me?” he asked. Perhaps he was used to being ignored. His people skills could use a bit of work – she'd been able to tell that he was scared right off, but it had taken minutes of pointless conversation to work around to what had been bothering him. Not to mention the way he kept taking glances down her dress, even now.

“Of course I do,” she said. One of the other guests looked their way, so Rose laughed gently, as though Damins had told her a good joke, though she wasn't sure yet whether or not he was capable of something like that. “We need to investigate the situation. Do you know how to get to the... bridge... the control room of the ship?”

“I should be able to find it, yes,” he said. “Do you think that they'll listen to us?”

“If they don't, we'll just have to take care of things ourselves,” Rose said firmly.

“You're... something else, miss,” Damins said, with an unmistakable glint in his eyes.

“You're not the first person to tell me that,” Rose said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Just a moment – I'll be right back.”

She looked around the room for the Doctor – it took her a bit, but she spotted him talking to a couple dressed in purple fancy dress. He was occupied, then. They actually appeared to be about to set off on the shore leave that was being announced.

As she was watching, she saw the Doctor bump into the blonde waitress that she'd noticed earlier – he relieved her of her drinks tray and appeared to be escorting her to the tourist group, with a sure and familiar touch.

Rose blinked, feeling a bit like she'd been kicked in the stomach. All right – Lynda hadn't really had a chance and Reinette had been a dead historical figure with surprisingly good hygiene. What was blonde waitress's excuse?

She closed her eyes and rubbed her fingertips over her bracelet. She didn't have any good reason to be jealous. She was being silly and petty and she was almost thirty – she should have outgrown this kind of irrational fear by this point. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes in time to watch the Doctor teleport away with the rest of the shore leave group. She turned back to Demins.

“We should go find the bridge,” she said. “Somewhere, there's something wrong with this ship and if we can fix it, we should.”

“Thank you,” he told her as they headed toward one of the doors. “I'd almost convinced myself that I was being a fool. Thank you for taking me seriously.”

“Not a problem,” Rose said. Slipping out the doors was as easy as it had been with the Doctor, though she had to reach out and tug Demins along when it looked like he was about to give up as they passed one of the Host. “I'd like to make one brief stop.”

It wasn't easy to convince him to wait outside the door while she went into the room with the TARDIS, but he finally gave in with ill grace and she hurried to grab her Torchwood bag from where she'd dropped it when she'd first come home. Had it really only been a couple of days ago?

It would still have the shed Opanilick skin in it but, more importantly, it would have her crude Torchwood equivalent of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. It was nowhere near as powerful, but if she and Demins ran into a locked door, she'd likely be able to open it.

She hoisted the bag over her shoulder and headed out the door, wishing that she had time to change into her trousers.

“Lead the way,” she told Demins. “And we should probably try to avoid running into the Host at the moment.”

“Who _are_ you?” he asked, as he glanced around a corner. He waved a sloppy 'all clear' to her and they kept onward.

“Just someone who heard that there might be something dangerous up here,” Rose said.

“Not an authorized passenger, then,” he said. He shot her a delighted look. He did have nice eyes, Rose decided – they were deep, dark blue, like looking into the heart of the ocean on a winter day. “You seemed a bit too sensible for most of this crowd.”

“Thanks,” Rose said, grinning at him. She spied a member of the crew around the next corner and snagged at Demins's sleeve, both of them pressing back against a nook in the wall until the other woman had passed them. Demins was warm against her side, which shouldn't have surprised her, but even in the brief time that she'd been reunited with the Doctor, she'd already readjusted to his lower body temperature.

“Who was it that you were looking for?” Demins asked, a little too casually. He _was_ trying to flirt her up, then. And in the middle of a crisis. “Back in the main hall.”

“My husband,” Rose said, and she could actually feel Demins wilt at her words. She might have felt bad about that, but she wouldn't have been attracted to this particular man even if she didn't have the Doctor. “He and I often do this sort of thing together.”

“Not this time?” Demins asked.

“He's looking into another angle,” Rose said, trying not to let her annoyance seep into her voice. She wasn't going to get mad at Demins because the Doctor was... being the Doctor. “He knows that I can take care of myself.”

Rose took another peek around the corner and the hallway was empty now – she and Demins headed down it quickly. About halfway down, she stopped when he touched her on the shoulder.

“There should be a hatch over here, somewhere,” he told her. “It'll lead us to the stair system and we can go all the way to the control floor, where the Captain should be. Best of all, the Host shouldn't be on the stairs. Guests _are_ allowed, but mostly don't bother. Only the staff tend to use it.”

“How do you know all this?” Rose asked – they found the doorway and made their way into the stairwell and started upward. It was a massive thing, this set of stairs, and it made her feel the enormity of the ship in a way that she hadn't thought about before.

“I memorize the plans to every transport that I travel on,” he said, a bit nervously, as though afraid that she would judge him for it. “As well as the rules and guidelines of travel.”

“Well, it's good for us that you do,” Rose said. Though it meant that he was likely the sort of man that she'd never have noticed, before travelling with the Doctor had given her more of a sense for who was aware of danger and might be able to help. From what he was saying, while knowing about the danger, he would have just... stood around, hoping for someone else to save them all. “Do you know how far up it is?”

“We'll know when we get there,” Demins said. “The door should be labeled. Unfortunately, it will also be locked to anyone not on the crew.”

“That's what this is for,” Rose said, patting her black bag. “I should be able to get us through just about any lock that exists... though I can't repair barbed wire.”

“Are you... are you a thief?” he asked. “Is this... did you...”

“I'm not using you to steal something,” Rose said. “Is there even anything worth stealing on this ship?”

“I'm not sure,” he said. “You could want to steal the entire ship. You could be a pirate!”

“Rose Tyler, space pirate,” Rose said, testing out the sound. “I can't really see that striking fear into my victims' hearts.”

“Why not?” he asked. “Rose has that rolling 'r' at the beginning – sounds a bit dangerous.”

“You don't have roses?” she asked. Apparently, the Doctor could go on and on about this ship not having humans on it and it took this for her to understand what that meant – he didn't know what a 'rose' was and why it shouldn't scare off people. “It's a type of flower. My mum loves them.”

“Ah,” Demins said. “Is that from the southern continent? I'm not familiar with their flora, I must admit.”

“Bit further than the southern continent,” Rose said.

“You're not from... Hela, are you?” he asked, his nose wrinkling up with distaste.

“No, I'm not,” Rose said. “I can promise you that much. Though... what would be so wrong about being from Hela?”

“They're trying to steal our rights,” Demins said, darkly. “They've already started.”

“What are they doing?”

“Cyborgs are allowed to marry now, because of them,” he said. He made it sound like the worst crime imaginable. “Soon, they'll even say that cyborgs will be able to _intermarry_ with normal people.”

“What would be so wrong with that?” Rose asked.

“Are you one of those, then?” he asked. “One of the Opposition?”

“If you're asking whether or not I think everyone deserves the same rights, even if they have bits of machinery stuck in them, the answer is yes,” Rose said. He'd stopped on one of the landings and was staring at her in shock. “Am I going to need to do this on my own?”

“Oh, no!” he said, quickly, hurrying past her. “I'm sorry. I just... you seemed so reasonable.”

“So did you,” Rose said. And there, that door ahead actually had a sign on it, rather than a number. “I think we've reached the right level – though it bothers me that none of the crew are around. Just that one woman and she was going to the main hall, where the party is. There should be... someone about, carrying tools or going off to fix something. This can't be good.”

The door was small and the sign on it read, simply, 'Crew Level; No Guests'. There was what appeared to be a keypad next to it and a place to swipe a card. Rose opened up her bag and pulled out her screwdriver – it was bigger and clunkier than the Doctor's and it didn't perform the eighty-thousand trillion different things that his sonic could, but it was fantastic at opening doors.

“Did you make that?” Demins asked, possibly trying to get back on her good side. She decided to extend a bit of goodwill in return.

“A colleague of mine did, actually,” Rose said. She turned it on and started tuning the frequencies, listening for the subtle shift in sound that would tell her when she'd hit the right setting. “Toshiko Sato – absolutely brilliant. I told her what I wanted and she was able to figure how to make it. It took her five years to create this version, but it was definitely worth it.”

“Colleague... do you work for the government?” he asked. “Is this a test?”

“No test,” Rose said. The pitch went down slightly – there it was. She pointed it at the keypad and activated it – a light above the cardswipe turned yellow. They were in. Rose turned the handle before their time ran out and eased the door open.

The hallway was still and quiet, not a soul to be seen.

“Do you know where to go from here?” she asked.

“We'll want to turn left at the end of the hall, then it should be a door straight ahead of us. That one shouldn't be locked, though.”

They moved even more cautiously now, but with less apparent reason – no crew, no Host, and certainly no guests. The door at the end of the corridor was closed, with just a small round window breaking the smooth surface.

Rose waved Demins over to the side and edged up to the window, glancing in – it didn't look so different from a modern-Earth ship, really. Buttons and switches all over the place, but that was common enough now. The unnecessary but pretty wheel was definitely present. There were two men in the room – a man with white hair looking down at some kind of monitor in the center of the room and another man with his back to her. All she could really make out of the second man was that his ears stood out a bit. They appeared to be talking.

“There's just two blokes in there,” Rose said, pulling away from the window to face Demins. “Bet that the older one's the Captain. Now, we'll need to warn them that if they aren't taking this Host problem seriously, they need to – but may not be the problem that I'm here about. I can't be certain. Something else could happen at any moment. You need to be ready.”

“I'm fairly certain there's a proverb about the impossibility of preparing for uncertainty,” Demins said. “Maybe they don't have it on Hela.”

“I'm _not_ from Hela,” Rose said, turning back to the door and holding up her screwdriver – nothing. This door was still locked, but not the same way as the other one. She swore under her breath and started adjusting the frequencies again.

Demins was standing just a little bit too close to her and she shifted away as she continued running through the settings until... ah, there it was. She pressed the button.

The door slammed open, unnaturally fast, and Rose blinked, wondering just how much juice Tosh had put into her screwdriver. She looked up – both the men in the room were staring at her, but that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that the captain was holding a gun on the younger man.

“Get out of here, miss!” the young man said, and he started reaching over to the side for something – Rose could see the other man taking aim and she couldn't let this play out.

She dashed forward, crashing sideways into the young man – she heard one shot taken and rebound off metal and then another shot went off, but she was falling hard against the floor and it took her a moment to get her bearings.

“Rose, I've got him,” Demins shouted. She looked up and saw him holding the captain, the gun on the floor next to them.

“Good job,” she said. She hadn't even needed to tell him to do that. Maybe she'd misjudged him earlier.

“Thank you, miss,” the man she was on top of said. “You've just saved my life. Perhaps all of our lives.”

“Don't thank me yet,” Rose said, sliding off of him. “What's your name?”

“Alonzo,” he said. He looked much better from this angle. Young and with great big eyes. “Alonzo Frame.”

“I have a friend who'd love to meet you,” Rose said, taking in an uneven breath and pressing a hand against her stomach. That fall had knocked the wind right out of her. “Now, you should find out what's wrong.”

“The shields are down,” Alonzo said, paling. He stood up quickly, turning to face the console. “I just need to-”

“No!” Demins yelled and Rose looked over to see him struggling with the captain. They fell down to the deck with a thud, both reaching for the gun.

“Hurry, Alonzo,” Rose urged, reaching back to brace herself so that she could stand.

Her hand slipped.

“It should only take a moment,” he said, but he was glancing nervously at Demins and the captain. He needed to _concentrate_. Rose needed to get up so that she could get him focused. Rose wiped her hand off against the front of her dress. She felt soaked – she must be sweating from the adrenaline. She reached backwards again. “I'm not sure how much time we have. That man said-”

The gun went off, sparks flying from the console near Alonzo – he ducked away, and it looked like Demins was losing that fight if the captain had gotten his hands on the gun again. He needed her help.

Her hand slipped a second time.

She had to get up – why couldn't she do that? Rose reached up and wiped at her face and-

Oh, no.

Her hand was covered in red.

She risked a look downward. There was a tiny hole in her dress. Radiating out and down from the tear was a wet darkness that couldn't be anything but blood.

An automated red alert started up. Lights were flashing and a female voice was warning about danger. She wasn't kidding, Rose thought.

“Alonzo, you need to get back to the console,” she said. Whatever had happened to her didn't matter right now – she had to stand up. She wiped her hand off against a clean part of her dress and gingerly managed to get to her knees. “We need to get the shields up so that we're safe. From anything outside, at least. And then we need to contact the guests. _Please_ , Alonzo. We might not-”

The ship shook around them and the force of the hit laid Rose flat against the floor.

They hadn't stopped it, whatever it was. Whatever Rose had been warned about, it was happening. Right now.


	4. In which the Doctor is really getting tired of no one listening to him.

He had to think this through rationally – Rose wasn't here, but that could mean any number of things. She could have popped back to the TARDIS or just could have wandered off to find the loo or she could be looking for a better view of Earth...

She could have gone off with that weaselly-looking blond man who'd been staring at her breasts.

She wouldn't have done that, would she?

They were as good as married. She'd agreed on that. And human marriage carried with it certain expectations of exclusivity. Rose hadn't believed that the Queen of France would have liked Reinette, after all. She _must_ have a dim view of extra-marital relationships. Surely, she must.

Mustn't she?

Once he found her, the Doctor decided, they were going to find out what was off about this ship and fix it. Then he was going to take her dancing, slide off that red dress of hers, and finally show her why experience trumped youth.

Though... perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone.

He slipped on his glasses and made his way to one of those countless 'Max' adverts – this one in a picture frame set up next to a window – and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He should be able to isolate the one human on the ship while at the same time seeing if those power fluctuations the crew member had mentioned were anything significant. He opened up the panel and started messing about with it, not particularly bothering to be subtle about it.

Rose's biometric data was soon entered into the machine and he'd just about gotten the system to show him the results for both queries. He pushed the screen back into place – there was the information about Rose, right there. She was... approaching the main control area of the ship.

Of course, she was. Thinking ten steps ahead, like she always did. Rose was going to find out who was in control of the ship and see if the problem could be solved with a minimum of fuss. Brilliant.

And, below, there was the informa-

In large, flashing red letters that he would have noticed before if he hadn't been so focused on finding Rose's name, the screen warned him that the shields were off-line.

He looked out the nearest window and spotted three bright orange-yellow lights headed toward the ship. A meteoroid shower on the way and the ship's shields were down. He had the sinking feeling that this wasn't accidental.

He should be able to call the bridge from... ah! There was a call button right on the screen. He activated it and informed the bridge about the situation.

Instead of listening to him, the man started demanding to know who he was. If the ship was in immediate danger, why would the _name_ of the person giving the warning be at all relevant? Why were so many species so fixated on names?

“Never mind that,” the Doctor told him. “Your shields are down.”

The man was simply refusing to do so much as say that he would check his scanner. Whatever was happening, the captain was either an incompetent fool or he was in on the plan.

Rose was headed that way.

And now the crew, instead of paying attention to him, yanked him away from the windows and comm system. Of all the bloody-minded stupidity that he'd ever witnessed, this had to be near the top. They couldn't _all_ want to die horribly. Surely, this wasn't a suicide ship. Astrid, Foon, and Marvin hadn't acted as though they'd signed up for a death cruise.

Though he tried to get through their thick skulls to the reasoning beings inside, neither of the crew members marching him out of the room were willing to listen to him. Giving up on them, the Doctor ripped his way free and started to race through the room, barreling past passengers and heading toward the stage. There was a woman up there, singing about lovers and Christmas, and he'd able to use her microphone. He'd be able to warn the passengers, even the crew was determined not to listen. Then he could go find Rose.

“Everyone listen to me!” the Doctor shouted as soon as he had hold of the stand. He was talking so loudly that he was getting some static from the speakers. “This is an emergency! Get to the lifeb-”

Someone was behind him, pressing their hand over his mouth and hauling him away from the microphone. He fought wildly to get free, but couldn't get any purchase. He was pressed back into the arms of the crew and they were pulling him out of the room again. He tried to continue to warn the guests as he was pulled along, but he was soon out of the room and they wouldn't be able to hear him.

They were all going to die.

Another room, with fewer people, but he kept trying to let them know the truth. From out of nowhere, Astrid had popped up next to them, hurrying along with, trying to tell the people holding him prisoner that they should give him a chance. They ignored her, but the Doctor had to admire her bravery in sticking out her neck for his.

On his other side, Marvin had followed them out and he was saying something, too, though the Doctor couldn't catch the words. They were with him, then – if Marvin were here, so was Foon. They wouldn't be caught in the first hit of the meteoroids. There was that small ray of hope.

He'd been dragged all the way into the service corridors now, where no other passengers would be able to hear him. He didn't stop talking, though, hoping that his clever, clever mouth would be able to say something that would make these men take him seriously.

A yell from behind them drew the crew members' attention and they stopped pulling him along – he turned along with them to see who was speaking.

“Steward! I'm telling you, the shields are down.” His corroborator was none other than the businessman who'd been so horrid to Astrid. Well, at this point, the Doctor would take all the help he could get.

“Listen to him,” the Doctor urged. “Listen to him!”

It was too late.

The first hit rocked the ship as badly as he'd feared. With the shields down, they had no defense against the power of the push and against the heat and concussive force of the blast.

Sparks flew and fires broke out, and the deck of the ship shook as another flaming rock hit them. His captors had long since lost their hold on him and their footing and he could only hope that they hadn't lost their lives as well.

He saw blonde hair and reached out instinctively, cradling Astrid's small warmth against himself as he felt the impact of another meteoroid smashing into the ship. Her hand was holding tightly to his jacket, but she didn't scream. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, both of them low to the ground. He couldn't save all those people in the main hall, but this one woman he had to be able to hold onto.

He wished that he knew exactly where Rose was, that he could put his hands on her right now and know that she was safe – she was smart, though, and she was tough. She'd be holding onto something right now, keeping herself safe. Probably protecting someone else.

Hoping just as strongly as he was that they would make it back to each other.

A plume of fire reached out in his direction and the ship shuddered violently. He tried to keep ahold of Astrid but she was pulled out of his grasp as both of them went falling forward.

He hit the ground painfully hard.

There was stillness now. Only the sound of the ship settling and the welcome noise of people breathing.

He paused a moment longer, waiting for the next hit, and then breathed out in relief when it didn't come. It might be over, for now.

He pushed himself up off the ground and motioned for everyone to be quiet. After some more time passed, he relaxed further. They were through _that_ storm, at least.

“It's stopping,” he told them. They'd survived. He reached down and pulled Astrid up off on the ground, looking around to see how much damage had been done. In balance, quite a lot. There was definitely some structural damage – the hull wasn't secure anymore, of that much he was already certain. Smoke had filled the air, though the fires hadn't stopped yet.

The entire corridor was a mess and Astrid and the other survivors were covered in soot and black streaks from the dust and ash. Flames flickered in several places and some of the computer consoles were still sparking.

And there, at his feet, one of his escorts was lying quiet and still. He bent down to feel for a pulse – nothing. Dead.

The surviving crew member – the steward – watched the Doctor solemnly and then attempted to pull himself together, straightening his jacket and brushing back his hair with a shaking hand. Then the man turned to the passengers and started to try to explain to them exactly what had happened. It was a task that the Doctor didn't envy him. The Doctor used the brief respite to look over the other survivors – Marvin and Foon, thankfully. Bannakaffalatta and Mr. Copper, which was nice. And... that bloke who'd been mean to Astrid.

Well, they couldn't all be winners.

Astrid went over to Mr. Copper, who was bleeding a little from a small wound in his head. She called the Doctor over and he went willingly, tucking away his glasses and then looking over Mr. Copper's wound for her sake, though it was clear to him that it was a minor injury.

She was asking Mr. Copper how he felt, getting him to talk about himself a bit. Best way to make certain that everything in his brain was in the right place, really. She was quite good at this sort of thing. Perhaps she should look into medicine or some form of care-taking, once he got her out of this mess. Martha could take Astrid under her wing – a solution that would make everyone happy. Astrid would get to live on an alien planet and Martha would get an alien friend who would be delighted to stay on Earth for a while without getting itchy feet.

Astrid turned toward him and smiled and then the Doctor heard the steward say something about finding out about 'the true nature of the situation'. The Doctor turned around, relieved that the man was finally willing to listen, and he saw the man reaching for the door seal.

 _No_ , not after an accident this wide-spread. The damage was too severe to sustain atmosphere automatically. It needed to be manually restarted.

The Doctor shouted at him not to, but it was too late – the door had been opened and there was no oxygen seal, not after a hit that heavy and with the shields down. The man was sucked out before the Doctor could even get close and now they were all in danger, because the air was being depressurized and them right along with it.

The Doctor braced himself against the wall, holding on tightly as the air whistled past him, and looked around for one of the ship's control panels – there, right across the corridor from him, Bannakaffalatta was holding onto one.

He flung himself across the hall, his right side aching where he slammed against the wall – he'd end up with a bruise for at least a day or two – and hurriedly pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He aimed it at the console, shifting the settings with his middle fingers while doing his best not to let go of the panel.

It was a sickeningly familiar situation, feeling the pressure to let go and fall, knowing that losing his grip might be the last thing he ever did – the last time he'd done this, he'd lost everything.

He finally reached the right setting and sealed them off from the vacuum of space, letting himself lean heavily against the console to recover from the tug of emptiness.

With the oxygen shield now in place, he took a moment to check in on the remaining survivors – it looked like they hadn't lost anyone but the steward. He had Astrid, Foon, Marvin, Mr. Copper, Bannakaffalatta, and-

The man who'd yelled at Astrid.

“You... what was your name?” the Doctor asked, because he couldn't very well call him 'arrogant wanker' to his face. Somehow, Rose would find out, and she would scold him for it later.

“Rickson Slade,” he said, as if the Doctor should recognize the name.

“You all right?” the Doctor asked.

“Yeah. No thanks to that idiot,” Slade said. He might be 'all right' but he was apparently still a bastard.

“The steward just died,” Astrid said, taking the words right out of the Doctor's mouth.

“Then he's a dead idiot,” Slade said. Astrid gasped and moved toward Slade and... much as he agreed with her, it would probably be a good idea for that particular conversation to be shut down.

“All right, calm down,” the Doctor said. For once, he'd like to run into a group of people that did as he said on the very first go. “Just... stay still, all of you.”

He glared at the whole lot of them for a moment, then he moved over to the gaping hole in the wall. Bits and pieces of the ship were floating right before his eyes and he could still see the body of the steward – and there were more bodies out there, too. Many more bodies.

He didn't see Rose's, but then again, he wouldn't. She'd be at the other end of the ship, if one of the meteoroids had hit near the bridge.

They hadn't, of course.

She wasn't out there. Rose Tyler wouldn't have died like this. Not after he'd only just gotten her back. She was fine. Better than fine.

“What happened?” It was Astrid. He hadn't even heard her come up next to him. “How come the shields were down?”

“I don't think it was an accident,” the Doctor said. He should have done something the second that they'd come aboard – Rose had had that warning and he should have...

He should have been able to stop this from happening.

“How many dead?” Astrid asked. The Doctor turned to look at her. She was staring out at the debris, grief and horror overwhelming her. She wouldn't be able to function like that.

“We're alive. Just focus on that.” He took her by the shoulders and forcibly turned her body away from the vast, howling graveyard outside. He bent over so that his face was level with hers and tried to sound as reassuring as he could. “I will get you out of here, Astrid. I promise. Look at me.”

She looked so terribly, horribly lost and uncertain, but she was looking him in the eyes now and she was listening. That was a start.

She was so young.

“I promise,” the Doctor repeated firmly. Slightly, hesitantly, she nodded and that was good enough for him to go on. She wouldn't fall apart. Now, he could secure the TARDIS and-

there it was, outside the door – outside the _ship_. Just floating, for the moment, but soon it would hook onto Earth's center of gravity and land. Probably somewhere in London, just out of habit. Well, that took his best option off the table. There was no quick and easy TARDIS rescue in the cards.

He closed his eyes and breathed in, slowly, willing himself to logically think of his next step. They could check to see if the bridge was all right. That was close to where Rose had been when he'd seen her on the scan, so he could also ask after her, find out if she'd gotten all the way to the bridge before the ship had been hit.

He made his way back to the console, Astrid trailing behind him. He reached out to activate the connection to the bridge, pressing down firmly and speaking as calmly as he could manage. “Deck twenty-two to the bridge.”

No answer.

Surely, it hadn't been one of the sections directly impacted. Even if the captain were involved in the sabotage, he couldn't have wanted to die. There had to be something else at work.

“Deck twenty-two to the bridge,” he repeated, his voice shaking a bit. “Is there anyone there?”

“Two of us still alive,” said a very welcome voice. “Are you all right?”

“Rose,” he whispered, needing to stop for a moment to let the sound of her sink into his bones. He'd been right to trust her, of course. She was there on the bridge and she was fine. He hadn't lost her, not this time. “I'm- I'm fine. I'm good. And you? You said there were two of you left.”

“We lost the captain and... and another man in the crash,” Rose said, roughly. He ached with the need to be next to her, to be able to wrap her up in his arms and help her through her grief. “We've got air, though.”

The Doctor could hear the sound of another voice underneath her, masculine and young, but he couldn't make out the words.

“Doctor, a Mr. Frame-”

Another brief pause and fierce whispering that he couldn't understand.

“Sorry, that's _Midshipman_ Frame. He says that our oxygen field is holding strong – he'd like to talk to you himself,” Rose said. She sounded exhausted. After this, they'd have a good rest in the TARDIS before going and visiting Martha.

“Yes, of course,” the Doctor said. If she thought it best that he speak with Frame, then that's what he would do. One of Rose's admirable traits was the ability to delegate tasks if someone else was better suited for the job. “Rose – I'm so glad that you're all right.”

“I know how you feel,” Rose said, softly. Her breath audibly caught, and then she coughed a bit, clearing her throat. She must be suffering from smoke inhalation. Hopefully, the air on the bridge was clear enough that it wasn't doing her lungs serious damage. Her body might be more resilient than most humans – courtesy of the TARDIS – but it was still far more fragile than his own. “Here he is for you.”

Another voice came on the line – the youth he'd heard talking to Rose just moments ago.

“The captain... he did it,” Frame said. The Doctor had been right on his guess – Frame was very young. His voice quavered and even broke at times. The Doctor couldn't quite imagine how Frame must feel now, betrayed by his own captain, betrayed by the man who was meant to look after him and teach him. “He took down the shields. There was nothing I could do – I _tried_. I did try. I couldn't stop him from any of it.”

“Just stay calm,” the Doctor said. These people from Sto – Stoians, Stovans, Stoics? – were very excitable. “Rose said that your name was Frame? It's nice to meet you, sir. What's the state of the engines?”

“They're cycling down,” Frame said. Which would be fine if they were in the dead of space or if this ship had a proton fusion drive, but the Doctor had the horrible suspicion that he wasn't going to be lucky today.

Maybe it was the suit.

“That's a nuclear storm drive, yes?” the Doctor asked. Frame confirmed on that which was... it was very bad. If this ship crashed into the planet – and because of the meteoroid impacts, there was every chance that it would – the resulting damage would be catastrophic. If it hit in the right place, it could trigger an explosion that would destroy enough of the planet to cover the rest in a massive ash cloud that would kill off the entire human race in a matter of weeks. “Midshipman, I need you to fire up the engine containment field and feed it back into the core.”

“That's never going to work,” Frame said. Apparently, no one had ever told the man that trying something impossible was better than sitting around and waiting to die.

“Trust me, it'll keep the engines going until I can get to the bridge,” the Doctor said. “Midshipman, my- Rose is up there. If I didn't think this would work, I wouldn't suggest it.”

“Oh, I see,” Frame said, immediately. The Doctor wondered if Rose had said anything to him, out of range of the microphone. “I understand. I'll do it.”

“Thank you,” the Doctor said. “Will... will you put Rose back on?”

“Yes, of course – I'll get working on that field.”

There was a moment of silence and then the comms crackled again.

“I hear that you're coming up to join me,” Rose teased. He could picture the sparkle in her eyes, the way her mouth curved up appealingly. “Can't stay away?”

“From you? Never,” the Doctor said, trying to keep his tone as light as hers was. He hadn't a clue how she managed to be so strong. “I know that it's a lot to ask, but try to keep yourself safe until I get there.”

“You're the one that needs to take care, Doctor,” Rose said, more seriously. “You have a long way to go before you get here.”

“Unfortunately,” he said. “Rose...”

“Yes?”

“You looked so beautiful tonight, in that red dress,” he told her, pitching his voice low and intimate. “Extremely beautiful...for a human.”

It wasn't enough, but it was all he could offer right now. Especially with Frame and the Doctor's group of survivors listening in on them. And Rose laughed in delight – that sweet and addictive laugh – and that made everything worth it.

“I love you, too,” she said, her voice choked up with emotion, and he was smiling now, thinking of reaching her and not of what he'd need to go through to get there. “Be careful and... get here as soon as you can.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, and then he shut off the comm and turned toward his motley group.

“Are we going to die?” Foon asked, as soon as he was looking at them, worry written on every line of her face.

“Did someone do this to the ship on purpose?” Mr Copper asked.

“But we're just a cruise ship!” Astrid protested.

Once again, he had to wave them down into some semblance of order. He laid out the situation as clearly as he could – they needed to get to the bridge so that they could save the ship. Simple and easy.

“Who put you in charge and who the hell are you anyway?” Slade challenged him. There always had to be one, didn't there? He didn't have _time_ for this. And he was getting just a little bit tired of being questioned while he was in the process of trying to save lives.

The Doctor took a step forward and looked Slade straight in the eyes.

“I'm the Doctor – a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I'm nine-hundred and three years old and I'm the man who is going to save your lives and all six billion of the people on the planet below, just in time to have Christmas dinner with my wife and our friends. You got a problem with that?”

Slade flinched and looked away from him. “No.”

“In that case,” the Doctor said, grimly satisfied. “Allons-y!”

He waved his band onward, towards the bridge and Rose.


	5. In which someone is a bit annoyed at a blonde.

“I've got to reinforce that,” Alonzo said, only moments after Rose had clicked off the comm. “You're showing through again.”

“You've got that field set up for the Doctor?” Rose asked, bracing her hands back against the console so that he could reach her midsection. She could see it now too, a small but spreading dash of red against the white of the bandage. At least it wasn't hurting much – the med kit that Alonzo had grabbed had had some painkillers that he'd insisted on giving her.

“Just about. I'm not going to let you bleed out while I finish, though,” he said, frowning a bit as he held more clean cloth against the growing stain on her stomach and pressed down. “I'm sorry that we don't have better supplies up here, ma'am.”

“It's Rose. Just Rose,” she said, trying to hide her wince from him. Pressure was a good thing, she reminded herself. “And you don't need to apologise. I'll live.”

“If you don't, I might not,” Alonzo said, but he was smiling. “The Doctor... is he...”

“My husband,” Rose said. Despite the dire situation, a tiny thrill ran through her when she said the words. “We... travel around and fix strange problems. It's sort of our job. Well, it would be, if we got paid.”

“Did you know what would happen?” he asked, brow furrowing. “Is that why you came up here?”

“I was warned that something about this ship was dangerous, but apart from that, I'm just as lost as you are,” Rose said. She was going to need to avoid being shot in the future, she decided firmly. It left her feeling far too faint. “We'll have to work through it together.”

“The Doctor seemed very certain that he would be able to save us,” Alonzo said, taping the bandage into place. “Can he?”

“He's the most brilliant man I've ever known,” Rose said, quietly but with certainty. “He's solved worse problems.”

“I'm not sure whether that's reassuring or terrifying,” Alonzo said. He ran his hand over her stomach once more, checking the edges. “This should be good for a while, yet. I think I didn't get the first one on tightly enough. Still, in my very inexpert opinion, you should be all right.”

“Thank you,” Rose said, giving him her best smile. He smiled back at her hesitantly, and then he flushed deeply and turned away to finish his work on the... the containment field.

Rose finally worked up the courage to look over at where Demins' and the captain's bodies were, still trapped under the heavy metal beam that had crushed them when the impact had shaken the ship. Alonzo had checked on them before she'd even regained consciousness and had told her that they were dead while he'd been bandaging up her wound.

She'd killed that man. By being here and asking him to help her, she'd killed Demins. And yet, would he have been any better off if he'd stayed below? He might have still died the same way.

She wouldn't have found the bridge as quickly without his help, that much was certain, and Alonzo might very well have been dead by the time she'd gotten there. No matter how she tried to plan it out, she couldn't think of anything else that she could have done.

“That should do it,” Alonzo said. He relaxed the slightest bit – he could see that it was obviously doing what the Doctor had said it would do, then.

“What's our next step?” Rose asked, when he just sort of stayed there in a slump. “Is there... a specific protocol for emergencies?”

“I'm supposed to find the highest ranking officer and follow their orders,” Alonzo said, straightening up again. “In the event that I am the highest ranking officer, which would seem to be the case, I need to assess the situation.”

“Can we run a ship diagnostic?” Rose asked. That was what they always did on shows like _Star Trek_. The TARDIS didn't seem to be able to do that, but perhaps this ship could. Of course, the TARDIS might have been able to originally and the Doctor had managed to wreck the function sometime over the last nine-hundred years. It wouldn't surprise her. It wasn't that the Doctor didn't have impressive alien tech – it's just that it was usually a bit broken.

“That panel over there,” Alonzo said, pointing to a display that, sure enough, had a diagram of the ship on it, with most of the lines flashing in different colors. Mostly red, which Rose reckoned was a bad sign. “That's what it does – we've got so many damaged systems that it's a shock we aren't all dead. The hull was open to vacuum in several places, though someone managed to restore the oxygen shield in at least one area.”

“Probably the Doctor,” Rose said, feeling a quick surge of pride. “What else can we do? Could we see if there are more survivors?”

“I can reverse the scanner,” he said, thoughtfully. Then he looked over at her, his eyes narrowing. “You should sit before you fall down.”

“It's not that bad,” Rose said. It really wasn't. She'd been leaning against the panel for several minutes now and she felt much better. “I can still help.”

“As the only member of the crew in this room, I'll make that call,” Alonzo said, with a surprising firmness. He took her by the shoulders and sat her down on the raised platform near the back of the room. “Sit. Try not to bleed to death before your Doctor gets here.”

“Yes, sir,” Rose muttered, leaning back against the wall. It was rather nice to rest a bit, but she couldn't completely relax, not knowing that the Doctor was still in danger and that she couldn't do anything to help him. She hadn't realized it until this very moment, but this was precisely why she'd never been able to fully settle into life in the parallel world – without being to hold onto the Doctor, to touch his hand and to know that he was safe, she'd stayed tense. She'd tried to run it out and shag out it out and it had never worked. She could have lived the rest of her life on Pete's world without the Doctor, but always with that restless ache at the back of her mind, reminding her that he would need her and she wouldn't be able to help him.

Martha and Jack were wonderful – and she was so glad that the Doctor had found Jack again – but Rose knew that it wasn't arrogance that made her know that the Doctor needed her. _Her_ , Rose Tyler, not just someone mucking about in the TARDIS with him. He... needed taking care of – he thought he could handle anything the universe might throw at him, but he was wrong. He needed someone to point out when he was wrong or rude or lonely, because he wouldn't do anything about it himself. He'd just let himself be miserable and never realize that fixing it might be as simple as letting himself trust someone else long enough for them to comfort him.

Being inside the Doctor's head had been... overwhelming and she couldn't remember barely any of it anymore, but something that had lingered was the cold ache that he'd lived with without her. When she thought of it, it was like a clammy fog pushing against every inch of her body and the emptiness of it still made her want to shudder.

She rubbed her fingers together, dried blood flaking off. She could have died today. And then the Doctor would have been alone. Would he have retreated back into that howling void, this time for ever?

That mysterious blonde woman had told her to be careful. Maybe... maybe one of the reasons that she needed to be careful was because of what the Doctor might be capable of if he lost her again. He'd picked her over the universe and she needed to not forget that. It was far too high a price just for one former shopgirl to keep the man she loved.

Though, now that she was thinking of that blonde – what good was having warning if Rose still hadn't been able to stop this from happening? If that woman had been able to be a bit more precise – 'be careful, because the captain has betrayed the passengers and crew by taking down the shields and letting a meteoroid shower hit the ship' – Rose and the Doctor would have been able to save dozens, possibly hundreds of lives.

If the Doctor were here, he'd tell her that they couldn't know. They shouldn't even have had the small warning that they'd been given. They were supposed to handle things without assistance from the future. And while he was probably right about that – causality and such – that didn't change the guilty, angry feeling inside her that wished she could go back and shake Miss 'tell-nothing' until she gave some specifics. Who she was and what she was going to mean to Rose in the future would make for a nice start.

“Ah, here we go,” said Alonzo, accompanied by a bit of beeping from the screen in front of him. “We've got fifty to sixty survivors in different places on the ship.”

“We should try to contact them,” Rose said. Much as she liked Alonzo, it would have been nice to have had someone with a bit more experience doing this with her. “What will we say?”

“We could tell them to come to the bridge,” Alonzo said. Rose nodded, then realized that he wasn't actually looking at her. Well, he was definitely on the right track – if he could tell that this was the best place for the survivors, it probably was. And the Doctor would be here soon and that would help. “It's probably the safest place, even now. I'll check and see who the closest-”

Before he could start, the comms whistled for their attention.

“This is the bridge,” he answered. “Where are you?”

“This is kitchen number five,” came the answer. Alonzo pressed something on the screen and then nodded – his profile was to her and she could see the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile.

“I believe that I've found you,” Alonzo said. “There are six of you?”

“That's us,” the man on the other end said. “Are we the only ones left alive, sir?”

“No,” Alonzo reassured them. “We've got more out there. Listen, I've already got a group headed for the bridge. You should do that, too. Don't go port side, there's no way. Can you make your way starboard?”

He was properly taking charge now. It was nice, especially since Rose wasn't entirely sure that she was up to the job at the moment.

“We're stuck. The doors have sealed. We can't get out.” There was a pause and Alonzo glanced at toward Rose – and she was sure he was wondering the same thing that she was. How were they going to save these people? “No, wait a minute. It's opening!”

Rose breathed out a sigh of relief.

“There's someone on the other side,” the Kitchen Five man continued. “Oh, the Host. We've got Host. The Host are still working.”

“Oh, that's brilliant,” Alonzo said, but Rose's breath caught in her throat.

 _One of them nearly broke Lady Jamilla's neck_ , Demins had said. They weren't working right.

“Tell them to clear a path for you,” Alonzo said over the comms. He was so thrilled and Rose hated to be the person to take that away from him, but her heart was pounding in her chest.

“I'm not sure that's a good idea,” Rose said, not as loudly as she'd have liked. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Tell them to get out of there.”

“Why would I do that?” Alonzo asked, not turning to look at her. “That's what the Host exist for – to help the crew and passengers, whether with information or labour.”

“Get them out of there,” she said, as strongly as she could, using the railing to pull herself up to her feet.

Alonzo looked at her, exasperation clear on his face-

Then the screaming started. Alonzo's eyes widened and he whipped back to the screen, desperately asking for Kitchen Five to report, _please_ report.

“It's the Host,” Rose whispered. A shout over the comms confirmed her fears.

Alonzo pressed a button on the screen, must have been switching comms, because he was calling for the Doctor.

“Mister Frame – how's things?” the Doctor said. Only a bit of strain in his voice right now. Rose hated that they were about to add to it.

“I've got lifesigns all over the ship, but they're going out, one-by-one.”

“What is it? Are they losing air?”

“No. Rose thinks it's the Host,” he said, with another terrified look back at her. “It's something to do with the Host.”

The Doctor didn't reply.

“Doctor,” Alonzo said. “Can you hear me?”

Rose let go of the railing and forced herself over to the comms, adding her voice to Alonzo's.

“Doctor! Are you all right?”

More deafening silence.

“Doctor, please answer,” she said, in a whisper.

The comms crackled. “Rose! It _is_ the Host. They've gone berzerk. Are you safe up there?”

“Yes, we-”

A shout from Alonzo interrupted her words. He was racing for the door lever and... outside, some of the Host were lurching for the doorway, intoning the word 'kill' as they moved forward. He slammed it down and the door shut, but with one of the Host's hands part of the way through. He didn't seem to notice it, turning and leaning against the door.

“Alonzo!”

He looked in the direction of her flailing hand and he yelped when he saw the wriggling and grasping hand that was so close to him – he yanked the lever hard around and the door shivered and severed the Host's hand as it shut with finality. He let out a gasping breath.

“Good job,” Rose said, faintly, before turning back to the comms.

“We're safe, Doctor,” she said. “But we've sealed ourselves in.”

She leaned against the panel, her pulse racing. He hadn't answered her yet.

“Doctor? Doctor! Are you there?”

“You shouldn't have stood up,” Alonzo chided as he came over to join her, his hand reaching out to her stomach.

“He's not answering,” Rose said, batting his arm away. If the Doctor wasn't responding, she might need to figure this out on her own and save him. “Those Host... they were saying 'kill'. I'm going to assume that's not part of their normal programming.”

“Of course not,” he said.

“Machines don't spontaneously create new programming,” she continued. Knowing both the Doctor and Mickey, plus working for Torchwood, had taught her that. “Their information can be corrupted, but specifically ' _kill_ '? That sounds like a plan. A plan means that there's a person out there who wanted everyone on this ship to die.”

“Sabotage?”

“You doubt it, after what your captain did?” Rose asked.

“The captain... he wasn't a robotics engineer,” Alonzo said.

“Which means that he was being used,” Rose said. “He was an older man – perhaps something else meant more to him than continuing to live. He might have died for a cause he believed in or because he had nothing to live for or he could have a family out there that he wanted to protect.”

“How would knowing that help us?”

“Because someone thinks that this ship or the people on it should be dead. If we can figure out who, that would help us in finding a way to stop the Host before they hurt anyone else.”

Rose pressed down on her bandage, feeling a bit of an ache now. Too much movement. She hadn't been able to tell, back when she'd been shot, if this technology used projectile or energy-based weaponry. It all hurt the same, but if she had a bit of metal inside her, that could be even more damaging in the end. She was just about to ask Alonzo about it when the comms whistled again.

“Rose, Mister Frame – are you still there?”

“We're all right,” Rose said. “We had a bit of an incident, but we're fine now.”

“What sort of incident?” the Doctor asked, sharply.

“I had to seal the door against the Host,” Alonzo said.

“They've been programmed to kill. Why would anyone do that?” the Doctor asked.

“Rose has been trying to figure that out. It's not our only problem, Doctor. I had to use a maximum deadlock on the door, which means... no one can get in,” Alonzo said. “We're sealed off. Even if you can fix the Titanic, you can't get to the bridge.”

“Oh, I'll get there,” the Doctor assured them. “One problem at a time, Midshipman. What's on Deck 31?”

Alonzo glanced at Rose, looking startled.

“That's down below. It's nothing. It's just the Host storage deck. It's where we keep the robots,” he said. Rose raised an eyebrow in disbelief and then smacked the man in the shoulder. When he looked at her in affront, she waved at the _killer robots_ just outside their door. He turned slightly pink, mouthing 'oh'.

“Hmm. See that panel? Black,” the Doctor said. Alonzo and Rose both shifted at the console, glancing at the section for Deck 31. It was most definitely black. “It's registering nothing. No power, no heat, no light.”

“I've never seen it before,” Alonzo said. Rose bit back a sarcastic reply. It wouldn't help and Alonzo seemed a bit delicate at the moment. The Host had really shaken him.

“One-hundred percent shielded,” the Doctor said. “What's down there?”

“I'll try intensifying the scanner,” Alonzo said, moving away to jab at some more buttons.

“Are you all right down there?” Rose asked.

“We're just fine,” he said. “Tell Alonzo to let me know if he finds anything and... keep those engines going. And... Rose?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“I'm sorry that I couldn't give you a better Christmas,” he said.

“Doctor – I'm with you,” she said. “It's already the best Christmas I've had in years.”

“I- well, I...” His voice was low and surprised. “Keep yourselves safe up there.”

“I promise,” Rose said. “I'll call you when we find something.”

“I'll see you soon.”

The comms clicked off. Rose took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hoping that the Doctor would be right this time.


	6. In which it's Christmas Day (probably).

“I'll see you soon,” the Doctor said to his Rose on the other end. He pulled away from the comm and turned to lean back against it, his eyes closed. Astrid pressed her lips together tightly and gently reached out to touch the Doctor's shoulder. He let out a soft breath of air as she made contact.

His lips were slightly parted and she longed to sketch him. She wasn't a very good artist, but she wishes she could capture the curve of his mouth, the soft pink of his lips. His thick brown hair would be nearly impossible for her to draw correctly but she wanted to try. His cheekbones were sharp and high, almost fragile.

He looked so delicate despite all his strength.

They'd made it through a narrow, broken stairway and a Host attack, but the Doctor looked more exhausted at _this_ moment than he had after both of those things. He must be terribly worried about his wife.

She'd never had anything like that.

He opened his eyes slowly – warm, brown and glad to see her – and she held up a tray of food in her other hand, offering it up to him.

“Saved you some,” she said, giving him her professional smile and a bit of a wink. “You might be a Time King from Gaddabee, but you need to eat.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said. He sat down on a bit of rumble and she perched next to him. He ate absently, the vast part of his concentration still in that strangely knowledgeable head of his and not on his meal.

“You look good for nine-hundred and three,” she said. She realized a moment too late that her words had come out a bit too flirtatiously and continued, quickly, “How long have you been married? You said it was recent.”

He swallowed a bite of food and looked down thoughtfully. The light was catching the the side of his face – she could see bits of dust caught in his hair.

“Oh, very nearly ten hours,” he said. The corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile and his eyes went hazy and distant. “In eleven more minutes, it'll be ten hours.”

Astrid smiled back at him. She was about to say more – perhaps ask him about knowing to the _minute_ – but Mr. Copper came up to them. He was bending over to get a bit closer to them and Astrid hoped that his back was up to the strain. This was not a normal day for him. Well, not for any of them.

“Doctor, it must be well past midnight, Earth time. Christmas Day.”

“It wasn't already Christmas Day?” the Doctor asked, his forehead wrinkling up. “Oh, I'm glad that Rose didn't hear that.”

“Why's that?” Astrid asked.

“She'd tease me. Rightfully so,” he said. He paused, then grinned up at Mr. Copper. “Merry Christmas.”

Mr. Copper laughed cheerily, all of him lighting up for a moment. It was good to see him so happy after what had happened over the last couple of hours.

“This Christmas thing, what's it all about?” Astrid asked the Doctor.

“Long story,” the Doctor said, which meant that he didn't feel like telling them. “I should know – I was there. I got the last room.”

He had a tiny, secret smile at that, like he was telling a joke for himself that none of them understood.

“But if the planet's waking up, can't we signal them?” Mr. Copper asked. Astrid was watching the Doctor very closely and was surprised to see a flicker of _contempt_ cross his face, quickly hidden. Why would that question make him look like that? Mr. Copper didn't seem to notice it. “They can send up a rocket or something.”

“They don't have spaceships,” the Doctor said, as though it were obvious – something that everyone should know.

“No, I read about it,” Mr. Copper said, with certainty. “They have shuffles, space shuffles.”

“Mr. Copper, this degree in Earthonomics... where's it from?” the Doctor asked, his forehead wrinkling up a bit.

Mr. Copper paused, his gaze shifting from the Doctor to the floor and back again. “Honestly?” he asked.

“Just between us,” the Doctor said, his voice a bit of a whisper.

“Mrs. Golightly's Happy Travelling University and Dry Cleaners,” Mr. Copper said. He wiped his plum handkerchief across his brow and shuffled to a bit of rubble across from them, sitting down.

“You -- you lied to the company to get the job?” Astrid asked, startled into speaking again. Apart from the fact that he'd lied at all – it shouldn't be possible. The Capricorn line was supposed to be throughly checked out. She'd had to go through a two-week waiting period before she'd been hired while they checked out her qualifications. They hadn't done the same for him?

Mr. Copper was talking now about feeling like he'd been wasting his life on Sto, which was familiar enough to Astrid. He'd wanted something exotic, like the Earth. Yes, Astrid could understand well enough why he would lie – when they'd been been on the Earth earlier, it had been such a thrill to stand on a real alien planet. The stink of the air had been so unlike Keg or any of the other cities she'd lived in on Sto and the stones under her feet had had barely any give at all. If she'd known that she needed to lie to get on one of the ships, she probably would have tried.

“And you, Doctor – are you _from_ Earth?” she asked. He'd acted like he'd seen it all before, when they'd been down on their brief tour. “You seem so much more advanced than we thought they were, but you know so much about the planet.”

“Oh, it might surprise you,” the Doctor said, throwing her a wink that made her catch her breath and remind herself that he was married to a beautiful adventuress that he obviously adored. He claimed that they didn't have money, but his suit and his wife's crimson dress looked to be as high quality as Rickston Slade's own black tie and Slade was likely the richest man on the ship. Even if the Doctor hadn't been married, he would have had no interest in a common waitress. “I'm not from the Earth, but Rose is and she uses her intelligence more efficiently than anyone else I've ever met.”

“You married below your species?” Mr. Copper asked. Astrid winced at his words. The Doctor lifted his gaze up and the look in his eyes made her shiver and Mr. Copper take a step back. “Sorry. None of my business. Terribly sorry. But, you see, my problem is, Doctor, that if we survive this, there will be police and all sorts of investigations. Now the minimum penalty for space-fraud is ten years in jail. I'm an old man. I won't survive ten years.”

The Doctor's face had softened throughout Mr. Copper's speech and he opened his mouth to reply when they all heard a banging on the door. The Doctor dropped the rest of his food and popped up, hurrying over to the opposite door, calling out to everyone that it was the Host and that they needed to move _now_.

Astrid tugged Mr. Copper up and started him in the right direction and the whole group of them rushed out of the room and along a hallway – everything was still smoking and in ruins from the meteoroid shower and it surprised Astrid how much it hurt to see the Titanic in such distress. This ship had just been her way out of the mind-numbing boredom of Sto, but seeing it like this just felt so wrong. It was such a _beautiful_ ship. It didn't deserve to have people betray it.

When they reached the door to the next section of the ship, the Doctor pulled out that chirping blue tube of his and pointed it at the door – Astrid glanced over at the other door to see it dent from the pressure of the pounding. She tried to stifle her shriek of surprise, but couldn't hold it back completely. She heard a clanging from behind her and turned to see that the Doctor had got the other door open for them, and the entire group of them rushed through.

They were in the engine room – it was enormous, as it had to be, to hold a nuclear storm drive. The heat from the engines was largely dissipated by the time it reached this high, but it was still warmer than the room they'd just been in. There was only a narrow walkway from this side of the room to where they needed to go, and it wasn't even a proper walkway, just a very lucky metal beam that had fallen across the drive room.

“Is that the only way across?” Rickston Slade asked.

“On the other hand,” the Doctor pointed out. “It _is_ a way across.”

“The engines are open,” Astrid said. She'd been in this room dozens of times and it had never appeared this intimidating before, because the engines had also been closed down below, which meant the gravity net was in place. With the engines open, the net couldn't be on. If they fell down now, nothing would save them.

“Nuclear storm drive,” the Doctor said in disgust. “Soon as it stops, the Titanic falls.”

“But that thing, it'll never take our weight,” Morvin Van Hoff worried.

“You're going last, mate.” Rickston said. Astrid only wished that she had time to slap him, now that her job was useless anyway.

“It's nitrofine metal,” the Doctor said. “It's stronger than it looks.”

“All the same, Rickston's right. Me and Foon should-”

The edge of the balcony broke away underneath him, and before anyone else could so much as reach out for him, he was gone, down to where the engine swirled below. Foon screamed out his name and everyone was shouting and Astrid couldn't take her eyes away from where he'd fallen. They couldn't even see him anymore, but she knew that had happened to him – the drive would vaporize him once he passed the safety bubble. Astrid covered her mouth with her hands, listening as Foon turned to the Doctor, blaming him for not keeping a promise to save her.

Horrible as Astrid felt for Morvin, this hadn't been the Doctor's fault. He was doing his best to save all of them, but he wasn't Vot, Highest Power. He couldn't levitate or raise the dead. Foon shouldn't be yelling at him, not when he was trying so hard and he was just one man from Gaddabee, however impressive he might seem to them. He couldn't do the impossible. They couldn't expect him to do Vot's work.

The clanging from the hall they'd just left was growing louder and they just... they didn't have any _time_.

Slade rushed for the walkway, slowing down once he reached it – the Doctor went over to him, to talk him across, and Astrid took over his place in comforting Foon, reaching an arm as far across her shoulders as she could. She could still hear Foon sobbing and she would have done anything to make her feel better, but no one could bring Morvin back.

There was a shift and boom as the storm drive twisted below them and Slade slammed down forwards onto the walkway, only barely keeping himself on top of it. The Doctor was calling reassurances out to him and Astrid had to admire him for it. She didn't know if she would have the grace to be so kind to the man.

Astrid shivered when she realized that she could hear the 'kill' chants of the Host – Mr. Copper heard it, too, and alerted the Doctor, who sealed the door to the hallway. Mr. Copper was complaining about that and Astrid couldn't see why. The Host wanted to _kill_ them. Anything that kept them away was a good thing as far as she was concerned.

Foon started talking – hoping that Morvin was all right, that he'd made it through. Astrid wished that she didn't have to kill that slender reed of hope, but there was no way to have a gravity net in place with the storm drive open. The nuclear energy would eat it away. Morvin was gone. Foon started crying again in earnest and Astrid wrapped her arms around the woman's shoulders, her own face wet, too.

Slade gave a shout of victory and Astrid turned her face to see that he'd successfully made his way to the other side. She let out a sigh of relief as she heard the Doctor tell Bannakaffalatta to go next. He was a nice fellow. She hated that it was taking Sto so long to give cyborgs the same basic rights as the rest of the citizenry. They needed to follow the example of Hela, their nearest planetary neighbor. Hela had been giving cyborgs full rights for almost five years now.

Just as Bannakaffalatta headed across, the door started to dent. The Host had found them again. They didn't have much time now. Astrid stood, helping Foon up as well, and looked nervously at the marks on the door. How long would it hold up to the Host's hands?

The Doctor said her name and she turned to him – he was telling her that she needed to cross now. She let go of Foon's hand hesitantly and grabbed onto the Doctor's. His face was tight with strain and she asked him when he'd be coming. He nudged her onto the bridge and told her just to go.

She placed one booted foot on the walkway, glancing down to remind herself of how careful she needed to be – the fallen beam itself was not just narrow, it was also covered in more debris that she would need to step over so that she could reach the other side. This ship had _not_ been designed to withstand an emergency situation and she was fully planning on reporting it to the Shipping Commission once she got home.

Bannakaffalatta stopped in his own journey to reach a hand backward to her – she accepted it and moving forward bent over was actually easier and more reassuring than standing tall would have been. He was such a sweet man. She'd have to hold him to that promise of a drink once they all got out of this.

The beam creaked underneath them and Astrid glanced back to see that Mr. Copper and the Doctor had joined them. Bannakaffalatta complained about the added weight, but Astrid couldn't shake her relief in knowing that the Doctor was that little bit closer. He might not be able to do everything that they wished he could, but he was good at this sort of thing. Certainly much better than she was.

Bannakaffalatta had to let go of her hand to leap across a nasty section and then she had to make the leap as well. Just as she landed, the ship shook around them and she very nearly lost her footing. Her breath was coming hard and fast and her heart was pounding like it was going to force its way out of her chest. The beam was starting to crack around them.

She knelt there for another moment, trying to catch her breath when she realized that... that the Host...

“They've stopped,” she said.

“Gone away?” Bannakaffalatta asked hopefully.

“But why would they give up?” the Doctor asked.

Astrid was staring back across the beam at the silent door, wondering the same thing. They wouldn't just go away. They wouldn't give up, not when they seemed to want so badly to kill them all.

Then Mr. Copper was staring up past them. “I'm afraid we've forgotten the traditions of Christmas,” he said, pointing a shaking finger upward. “That angels have wings!”

Astrid turned her head to follow that trembling finger and her heart froze when she saw the Host descending down on them. They shouldn't be able to levitate, certainly not in this room, but they shouldn't be able to at all. None of the staff had been told about that. It shouldn't be happening.

Yet happening, it was. There were at least five of them, hovering in the air around their walkway, their hands folded together.

One of them beeped. “Information: kill.” It reached up, taking off its metal hat – Astrid thinks she remembers one of the crew calling it a 'hallo'. The Doctor yelled out a warning to them all, picking up a bit of a metal bar.

Astrid started tugging at a bar near where she was, but it was stuck in place. And the Host were holding their hallos in one hand, looking like they were going to throw them. Astrid yanked harder, hauling out the bar just in time to smash it into a hallo before it hit her and nearly unbalancing herself with the swing.

Every time that any of them hit one of the hallos, it would spark bright blue and zoom away, but never downward. They didn't seem to be getting _rid_ of any of them. She heard the Doctor yelp out in pain and looked over in time to see one of the hallos graze Mr. Copper, who clutched his side in pain.

“I can't,” Astrid said, despairingly. She couldn't fight a useless battle and this wasn't working. No matter what they did, the hallos kept attacking them.

“Bannakaffalatta stop!” Bannakaffalatta yelled. She turned and saw him throw his bar to the side. “Bannakaffalatta proud. Bannakaffalatta cyborg!”

With that shout, he ripped open his dinner jacket and triggered an overload on his own circuits – it sent out a pulse that knocked all the hallos down and made the Host spark and shiver and drop like weights, most of them falling down in the nuclear drive below them and one landing with a clang on the walkway behind the Doctor.

Then she heard a crack behind her and Astrid turned to see Bannakaffalatta fall back on the walkway right behind her. She gasped out in horror and rushed to his side, looking down at his power core – it was blinking on empty.

“He's used all his power,” she called out to the Doctor, and then she looked back down at Bannakaffalatta, placing her hands on his shoulders gently.

“Did good?” Bannakaffalatta asked.

“You saved our lives,” she told him.

“Bannakaffalatta happy.” He _did_ sound happy, but he also sounded... resigned. And that wasn't good enough. He couldn't give up now.

“We could recharge you,” she said. “Get you to a power point. Just plug you in.”

“Too late,” he said, with a tiny shake of his head.

“No, but... you've got to get me that drink, remember?” she said, trying to smile.

“Pretty girl,” he said, and her smile widened hopefully... then his face relaxed, his eyes closing, all the breath and energy gone from his body. She took in a shuddering breath and then started to reach down to fix his shirt back into place, but Mr. Copper stopped her.

Mr. Copper pulled out Bannakaffalatta's EMP transmitter, saying that he would want them to use it. Mr. Copper was right, of course he was, but it sent a shiver through her, to see a part of Bannakaffalatta just being _removed_ like that.

A weapon against the Host, though, Astrid could support that. Who knows how many other people had already been killed by them?

It was with a grim heart that Astrid nodded – and then Slade brought them more bad news. The Host that had fallen onto the walkway was starting to get up, and that EMP was still empty, unless it had some bit of emergency power left.

They might still die, here and now.

Everyone – including herself – was shouting and it was doing no good. That Host was going to kill them, all of them.

And then the Doctor held up a hand and said, “Loophole! Security Protocol Ten! Six-Six-Six! Twenty-One!”

He kept shouting out numbers and Astrid took Bannakaffalatta's EMP from Mr. Copper, checking desperately to see if there was any kind of back-up on it – yet knowing that there couldn't be, that if there had been, Bannakaffalatta would still be alive.

“One!” the Doctor called out and the Host stopped advancing. In fact, it repositioned itself into standard information-dispensing position. Astrid's heart felt like it might start working again.

“Information: state request.” It was rather chilling to see one of the Host behaving that way now, after she'd seen them trying to kill her. The toneless quality of its voice was disarming instead of reassuring.

The Doctor proceeded to try to interrogate the Host, but Astrid was having a hard time concentrating on what either of them were saying. She'd wanted to see an alien planet and maybe have a bit of an adventure. But her breath was coming hard and fast, her body shivering with adrenaline and as much as this was terrifying her, there was something horrifically exciting about it as well. And the Doctor and his wife did this all the time – was this why? Was it because of the way her blood was rushing under her skin and every nerve in her body was on edge? Did they enjoy it?

The Doctor's interview with the Host appeared to be over, as it told him that his questions were up.

“Information: now you will die.”

It started to raise up its hallo again for another attack. Astrid cringed a bit, wondering if it might not be less painful just to jump down into the drive.

And then she saw Foon – Foon came up behind the Host and looped a rope over the top of it, cinching it tight. “You're coming with me,” she said, before taking a deep breath and-

she leapt from the walkway, holding firmly to the other end of the rope. The Doctor screamed, but it was too late.

She and the Host were both gone – tumbling down to be vaporized in the engine core. Astrid stood there for a moment, staring. The noise of the room seemed overpowering, though it couldn't be any louder than it had been a moment ago.

“Everyone, move,” the Doctor said, pushing Mr. Copper in her direction and holding his hand out toward her. Astrid nodded, a little shakily, and gave him the EMP before heading over to the other side of the room, where the Doctor pulled out his tube and beeped it at the door, opening it for them. He led the way through, stride determined. They raced down a hallway until they reached an intersection – the Doctor spun around to face them and Astrid had to stop abruptly to avoid running past him.

“Get up to Reception One,” he told them. “Once you're there, Mr. Copper, you've got staff access to the computer. Try and find a way of transmitting an SOS. Astrid, you're in charge of this-”

He held the EMP transmitter up in front of her. She hadn't noticed until now, but his tie had been undone, giving him a ruffled and dashing look, and he really did have truly lovely hands, with long and slender fingers.

“-once it's powered up, it'll take out Hosts within fifty yards but then it needs sixty seconds to recharge. Got that?”

Astrid took the transmitter from him, trying to figure out just when he'd had the _time_ to reprogram it while they'd been escaping. The Doctor turned to Slade, holding up his helpful tube device.

“Rickston, take this. I've preset it. Just hold down that button. It'll open doors. _Don't lose it._ You got that?”

Slade inclined his head a bit and accepted the machine from the Doctor, who promptly ordered him to go open the next door. Slade stared down at the Doctor's device, running his fingers over it, then startled when the Doctor yelled at him, scurrying off to obey.

Next, the Doctor pulled a medical response kit from the debris and handed it to Mr. Copper, telling him to get himself fit, then he turned back to Astrid.

She had to admit, she was a bit in awe. This was a man who knew how to take control of a situation.

“Astrid, where's the power point?” he asked her, briskly, none of that extra warmth from earlier in his voice. She hurried off to show him and the two of them bent down under the comms and he reached down to show her where to plug in the transmitter to charge it.

“When it's ready, that blue light comes on there,” he said, pressing a button and showing her. He'd given them so many instructions, it was as if... as if he knew that he wouldn't be there to help them.

“You're talking as if you're not coming with us,” Astrid said, feeling as though her heart had plummeted down to her stomach. He was the one who'd kept them together and kept them alive. How could they do this without him?

“There's something down on Deck 31,” he told her. “I'm gonna find out what it is.”

“What if you meet a Host?” Astrid asked. He'd given away his blue tube – not that it seemed to be a weapon – and she was the one who would have the EMP transmitter. He'd be helpless.

“Well, then I'll just... have some fun,” he said, like it was nothing at all.

“Sounds like you do this kind of thing all the time,” Astrid said.

“Not by choice,” he said, sounding slightly wounded, like it was an argument he'd made often. “All I do is travel. That's what I am – a traveller. Imagine it. No tax, no bills, no boss, just the open sky.”

She gazed up at him and she tried to envision his world – a world of complete freedom, where he had no obligation but to himself. She could see _herself_ in that world with him, laughing under alien skies, him holding her tightly when danger threatened, seeing him smile and getting to see more than just the hint of his throat.

Then, with something of a mental **thud** , she remembered his voice from when they first met.

 _Rose Tyler, my wife._

 _I suppose that you could call this our honeymoon._

She wouldn't get to be the person to look after him – he already had that someone. And yet... she couldn't stop thinking of visiting Earth and looking up to see that alien sky. Even if she couldn't have him, she might still be able to have _that_.

“I'm sort of... unemployed right now,” she started, picking her words very carefully. “And I was just thinking... hoping, really, that your ship might have room for another person. A friend.”

“It's not always safe,” the Doctor said, but his eyes were warm and welcoming again.

“I don't mind,” she said. “I've got no one back on Sto, no family, just me. So, what do you think? Can I come with you?”

The Doctor smiled and her heart beat just a little bit faster.

“Yeah, I'd like that,” he said. “Yes.”

The ship shook around them and his smile slipped. He stood up and opened the comms to the bridge back up again. Astrid stayed where she was so that she could continue to power up the EMP.

“Rose, Midshipman Frame – are you still with us?” he asked.

“It's the engines, sir,” came the immediate response from young Frame. Astrid tried to remember his first name, but couldn't quite think of it. Alexis, perhaps? It was something odd like that. “Final phase. There's nothing more I can do. We've got only eight minutes left!”

“Don't worry, I'll get there,” the Doctor said.

“The bridge is sealed off!” Frame protested.

“I'm working on it,” the Doctor snapped. “I'll get up there somehow. Is Rose there?”

There was a brief pause.

“Of course, I am.” Rose's voice was breathy and sweet – Astrid hadn't really had time to notice it earlier and it didn't really matter, she supposed. “I'm not qualified to muck about with the engines, that's all, Doctor.”

“Rose-”

“We've got a time limit,” she said, sounding firmer. “Go save the ship.”

“As ordered,” the Doctor said. Then he breathed out softly and clicked the comm off again, turning back to Astrid.

“All charged up?” he asked, and she nodded. She stood up and followed him as he raced back over to the other two. “Mr. Copper, look after her. Astrid, look after him. Rickston... um... look after yourself." He gave Astrid a lingering look. "And I'll see you again, I promise.”

He turned to leave and... she couldn't stand just to have him go like that.

“Hold on!” she said, her mind racing. “There's an old tradition on planet Sto-”

“I've really got to go,” the Doctor said.

“Just wait a minute!” Astrid said. She stared for a moment, wishing that he weren't quite so tall, but then an idea struck her. She went over to Mr. Copper and pulled the medical kit from his hands, placing it down on the ground in front of the Doctor. He looked at her, bemused. She climbed up on it and leaned forward to place a very soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. His eyes closed briefly and she let herself take a moment to think about the kiss that she might have dared to give him if he weren't married.

When she pulled away, he opened his eyes, and the tenderness in them made her ache inside. “Yes,” he said gently, cupping her cheek briefly. “That's a very old tradition.”

He pulled away from her, heading off again, and Astrid blinked hard, not letting herself cry.

They had a job to do.

It was astonishingly easy to settle into a routine as they made their way back to Reception One – Rickston would open the door, Astrid would rush in to zap any Hosts who might be around, then she would wait for her transmitter to power up again while Rickston headed for the next door. And each time felt easier and gave her more of a rush when she pulled off her part of the plan. If this was really what life with the Doctor would be like, she might really enjoy it, despite the danger.

They reached Reception One and Astrid found it much easier than she would have predicted to get Rickston and Mr. Copper to follow her instructions. But then the computer that they might have used to send the call for help was down.

She glanced around the reception area, wondering if there was anything else that they might be able to use, and her gaze landed on the teleport bracelets, giving her another idea. She might not be able to do anything else here, but maybe she could still be useful.

She went over to the comms and called the bridge. Frame was the one who answered.

“Who's there?” he asked.

“Astrid Peth. I was with the Doctor,” she said. “Tell me, can you divert power to the teleport system?”

“No way,” he said. “I'm using everything I got to keep the engines going.”

“It's just one trip,” she said. “I need to get to Deck 31.”

“And I'm-” Frame started to speak and then he was cut off.

“Isn't that where the Doctor went?” That was Rose's voice, sharp and inquisitive.

“Yes,” Astrid said, relief washing over her. She didn't need to do all the convincing herself. “He's done so much for us and I... I need to help him.”

“We'll get you that power,” Rose said.

“Thank you,” Astrid said. She turned to the teleport system and tried turning it on, a thrill running through her when it responded. She grabbed one of the bracelets and snapped it on. She looked over at Mr. Copper, who was fiddling with head of one of the Hosts. “Mr. Copper, I'm going to find him.”

“Good luck,” he said. She smiled and then braced herself.

The teleport grabbed her and blue light enveloped the world around her.


	7. In which Astrid kissing him was really the least of his worries.

He possibly shouldn't have let her kiss him.

He allowed himself mull it over a bit as he headed down toward Deck 31. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not Rose would be all right with other people kissing him even if it was done purely out of a spirit of friendship. If Rose had been down here and he'd been up on the bridge, would he have minded Astrid kissing Rose?

Hmm.

He ducked under a low, half-fallen beam.

He was not, in fact, entirely certain about the answer to that question. He didn't think that he would feel particularly threatened if it had happened – Rose had not, to his knowledge, ever shown any inclination to narcissism in her sexual behavior. On the contrary, she seemed to be attracted to a more complementary type – male, computer and process-based, with a weakness in the emotional sphere.

He would have been bothered if she'd kissed that man she'd been speaking to earlier at the party. But was he a fair comparison to Astrid? He'd clearly been physically attracted to Rose, while Astrid was drawn to the exotic notion of space travel and aliens, of which the Doctor was merely a symbol.

Rose certainly would have had no need to feel threatened, but she hadn't needed to be concerned about his brief connection with Reinette or his relationship with Sarah Jane and she'd still gotten a bit worked up over those things.

Of course, that comparison also showed that she realized such facts fairly quickly – it had only taken one brief, if unpleasant, conversation to convince her that her fears were unfounded in the case of Sarah Jane. And then the two of them had been as close as a pair of Grahu siblings. As for Reinette, she'd only shown a slight annoyance over that in a time of great stress. Perfectly understandable.

Even if she were less than thrilled about the kiss and Astrid coming aboard, she'd likely work through her issues before much time passed at all. And Astrid would be charmed by her as soon as they met – Rose was intensely vivacious and charismatic – so any awkwardness would be done by the end of the first day.

There wasn't a problem at all.

And then they'd need to show Astrid just what the TARDIS was capable of – he'd let Rose take a crack at driving on her own, if she liked. Perhaps they could go to Rome. He'd been to Rome a few times before, but it was always a fun trip. He could even show Astrid the statue of Rose that he'd done. The Sacred Days Bazaar on Shan Shen was also something that came to mind – he hadn't gotten a chance to show Rose that particular marketplace yet. There was a booth there that he'd visited once that did the best hot chocolate in three galaxies.

The Lost Gardens of Ki'plu also sounded appealing – he hadn't taken a friend there since the days of Jamie and Zoe. As he recalled, their private gardens were _very_ private.

Perhaps, he mused, hacking through a door control and wishing for his sonic screwdriver, that was precisely why he hadn't gone back there. Jamie had been the last time he'd felt free to associate so intimately with a human – it would have been strange to have gone there with Jo or Sarah Jane or even Peri. As for Tegan... well, it would have been sheer cruelty to go there with Tegan, for both of them.

Finally, _finally_ , he came out into a room populated by the Host. If he'd had to get down to 31 the way he'd been doing it, he'd likely have run out of time.

They challenged him, of course, and it should as been as simple as anything. Except that when he called for Security Protocol One, they took his basic conversational gambits as serious questions and he was down to just one out of three before he had time to think.

If Rose had been there with him, she would have smacked his arm and told him that he should have done his thinking before any of his talking. She'd have grabbed his hand and he would have paused and then he wouldn't be left with only a single question.

What could he do with just one question?

Then, the Doctor had the flash of brilliance that he'd been hoping for – the same word that had caught Astrid's attention might very well distract the Host.

So, this time he used that magic word 'stowaway'. He couldn't be a true survivor that should be killed because he wasn't supposed to be there at all. And that meant that he would need to be dealt with by someone who had an actual mind rather than simple computer protocols.

“Take me to your leader,” he told them triumphantly, adding, more quietly, “I love saying that.”

He let them take him without a fight, naturally, and it was much easier to make his way downstairs quickly when he didn't need to be the person opening the doors.

He wondered if Astrid and the others were already up to Reception One. Hopefully, they were and they'd sent out that SOS. If whatever he was doing here didn't work, then they would need it. Rose and Midshipman Frame would be doing their best to keep the engines running, but their time was quickly running out and the Doctor wasn't planning on Rose dying any time soon – not in his lifetime was too much to wish for, but he could at least manage a few more decades. If he failed, he had no doubt that, somehow, Jackie would find out about it. Then she would work out a way to cross the Void, come and find him, and kill him in the slowest and most painful way possible.

And he would deserve it.

However, Rose wasn't dead yet and he was determined to keep it that way.

The Host led him into a large balcony area – he could see the open space of the engine room in front of him. It was quite a large room, with just about as much damage as the rest of the ship. It did seem to be the servicing area for the Host, as he saw some of them lying on tables ready to be worked on. Likely never to be fixed, now. There were no bodies in this area of the ship, though the Doctor doubted that was because no one had been killed here. The bodies had probably been moved. Whoever was the mastermind behind this had wanted to keep death at a distance – he caused it entirely by use of tools like the Host and through sabotage, perhaps believing that this kept his hands clean.

Between the meteoroids and the attacks of the Host, there wasn't much left of this ship. Doomed to certain failure, just like her namesake, though this particular one was down to intent rather than carelessness and arrogance.

This room seemed to be the place where the Host wanted him to be – he hadn't resisted his 'arrest' at all, so they weren't attempting to hold him in place, but they'd stopped, encircling him as though they could really stop him if he decided to escape them.

Well... maybe they could.

He repeated his demand to meet the person giving them their orders. This was a chance, perhaps his only chance, to find and reason with another thinking person. If he could manage to make a connection to whoever it was that had caused this disaster, maybe they would be able to fix it, together.

A set of doors hissed open behind him and he turned to watch as fog rolled out of the entrance. That was a bit ominous. Possibly a bad sign. And the construction was unmistakable. “That's an omnistate impact chamber. Indestructible. You can survive anything in there.”

As he'd known had to be true, there was a mind behind this madness. Someone who had planned all of this out and knew just how he was going to survive it. The Doctor saw a machine started to wheel out – from the whistling and bubbling noises, the Doctor was willing to bet that it was a life-support machine.

Max Capricorn, of the shiny gold tooth and insistently annoying advertisements, was the greedy and selfish mind behind all of this.

Of course.

Unfortunately, Max Capricorn's first impulse was to order the Host to kill the Doctor without any sort of conversation beforehand, which wouldn't do at all, so the Doctor's first priority was to talk his way out of certain death. Luckily, he was quite good at that. Even managed to amuse the man, which might keep the Doctor alive for that little bit longer that he needed to fix all of this.

Once the Doctor got Capricorn to not immediately kill him, it was time to find out how and why he was doing what he was doing.

As the brilliantly insane always did, Max Capricorn _did_ want to talk about why he was doing all this, of course he did. They all did, once the Doctor got close enough and talked enough to prime them. So, Max Capricorn was trapped by a society that despised what science had made him, but instead of simply taking his money and going off to find some measure of peace, he had to kill millions of people in the process.

Because, to Max Capricorn, the only person who really mattered was Max Capricorn.

And that degree of selfishness became even more apparent when he compared it to Foon, Morvin and Bannakaffalatta – three good people who were dead because _Max Capricorn_ had needed to make the people who'd hurt him pay for what they'd done.

To a certain extent, the Doctor could empathize with him – Capricorn had been reduced to a neck and head stuck into a crude life-support device. He probably would be feared and hated if that truth came out, especially if he had been as nasty a man in the public eye as the Doctor suspected. Because, of course, the quality of life depended just as much on the personality of the person living it as anything else. Ursula, who he and Rose had only barely managed to save from the Absorbaloff, was merely a face stuck in concrete, but when he had reunited her with Elton, both of them had been nothing but grateful over getting to spend more years together.

Perhaps that was key as well – Ursula had another person in her life that made living worthwhile, whatever form that life might take. Capricorn just had business contacts and the Host. Hardly the same thing. He'd told Rose once that loneliness was the wellspring of some of the worst acts imaginable and this was another example of that. Capricorn was lonely and afraid and, therefore, didn't bother to care about anyone other than himself.

None of which excused his actions. Capricorn was still a murderer and only minutes away from being the cause of a genocide, so the Doctor wasn't inclined to excuse his actions or give his words much attention.

And when the Doctor tried to get Capricorn to justify those deaths and explain his behavior, the man simply turned his wheeled cart around and tried to head back to his omnistate chamber, which the Doctor just couldn't allow. He jumped in front of Capricorn and tried to find those perfect right words that would make all this better.

He needed to get inside Max Capricorn's head. He needed to understand.

“The business isn't failing,” he realized, not able to completely hide his satisfied glow at figuring it out. “It's _failed_. Past tense.”

“My own board voted me out,” Capricorn confirmed. “Stabbed me in the back.”

“If you had a back,” the Doctor quipped and then hurried on before Capricorn could respond. “So, you scupper the ship, wiped any survivors, just in case anyone's rumbled you, and the board find their shares halved in value.”

But no, he realized, looking over at Capricorn, even that wasn't quite enough revenge for this man.

“If a Max Capricorn ship hits the Earth, it destroys an entire planet,” the Doctor said, stalking forward, his own feelings only barely held in check. “Outrage back home. Scandal! The business is wiped out.”

“And the whole board thrown in jail for mass murder.” Capricorn had the gall to smile, as though his plan were simply a clever way at getting back at those who had hurt him, rather than the loss of billions of lives and all the potential that any planet contained. He used the words and had not the slightest comprehension of what it meant to take lives on that enormous a scale.

“While you sit there, safe inside the impact chamber,” the Doctor said, knowing that his disgust was showing on his face. Right now, he didn't care. He'd run across many different creatures in his lifetime and he knew a monster when he saw one.

“I have men,” Capricorn bragged. “Waiting to retrieve me from the ruins... and enough off-world accounts to retire me to the beaches of Pentaxico Two, where the ladies, so I'm told, are very fond of... metal.”

“So, that's the plan,” the Doctor said, lip curling, breath coming short and hard. “A _retirement_ plan. Two-thousand people on this ship, six billion underneath us, all of them slaughtered and why? Because Max Capricorn is a loser.”

Capricorn wheeled himself right up into the Doctor's face and... if he could spit, he likely would have tried just then. “I never lose,” he said, his voice low and bitter.

“You can't even sink the Titanic,” the Doctor taunted.

“Oh, but I can, Doctor,” Capricorn said. “I can cancel the engines from here.”

Something on Capricorn's life-support machine buzzed and the Doctor's hearts felt like they were losing rhythm. No. He couldn't let this happen.

“You can't do this,” the Doctor said and he wasn't sure whether he was arguing ethics or engineering. Capricorn ordered the Host to grab hold of him and their grip was as light and implacable as any machine's – the ship was losing power, they were going to fall and everyone was going to die.

His brave three – Astrid, Mr. Copper, and even Rickston Slade – they were going to die without the chance to fight for their lives. The planet below – the _Earth_ – the planet that had sheltered him, through all the worst storms of his life, was going to be destroyed before it ever had the chance to grow wings. Young Mr. Frame up in the control room would be dead without the Doctor ever getting to meet him.

 _Rose_.

Always, forever, there was Rose.

He yanked hard against the Host holding his arms and he could see her – the very first time that he'd ever seen her. She'd backed herself up against the pipes at the back of Henriks' basement and the Autons were about to kill her and he'd just about resigned himself to dying for the sake of her planet, but he couldn't let this stupid human girl die in vain. He'd already seen one man die that day and he couldn't stand another death on his hands. Not _that_ day. So, he'd reached out and grabbed her hand and her face had swung toward his, her silky blonde hair covering up her features. He'd finally seen her properly when he'd got her to the relative safety of the lift – she'd been an average-enough young human, he remembered thinking, but... clever. Intelligence hovered behind those big hazel eyes of hers and he'd been drawn to it, even then, when he hadn't wanted to be near anyone.

Always, her mind had raced to theories that he hadn't thought of and she noticed the details, large or small, that he missed. Mr. Copper had called humans... 'below' him. His own people used to call them a lower species.

Humans weren't as old as the people of Sto or, naturally, anywhere near as ancient as his people had been before the war. Still, just as it had with Rose herself, that very youth gave them the ability to see things that he would never have noticed.

If Rose were here, if she were down here with him, she would see that small detail that would save them all. Perhaps, even now, she was saving the world up on the bridge.

He closed his eyes, calling back the memory of coming up behind her earlier today. She'd spun around, that red dress she'd put on clinging to her curves and beckoning him closer. Her skin had seemed creamy and accessible, her hair dressed up in a way that had made him want to slide his hands into it and muss it up. He _ached_ for Rose in a way that was like nothing else in his memory. It must be something in this regeneration because, before he'd burned up his previous self in her fire, though he had longed for her to be near, it had been the certain, slow want of a river. This new feeling was the tumbling, desperate desire of that same river falling helplessly into more need, a waterfall that never stopped.

When she'd been gone, that avalanche of feeling hadn't faded even the smallest measure. He had, perhaps, begun to come to peace with feeling the loss of her, but the pain itself had been just as acute the day before he'd found her again as it had been the day that he'd watched her fall into a world where he couldn't reach her.

Everything that both of them had suffered through before having the chance to be together again and it might all be over before this day was out.

And now, Capricorn kept on talking – blathering, really – and none of his words were the least bit important. All that mattered was the attempt to free himself from the Host, yet no matter how he twisted and tugged, they held firm.

When Capricorn ordered the Host to kill him, the Doctor felt a rare moment of pure panic come over him, but before the feeling could consume him, he heard another, much more welcome voice.

“Mr. Capricorn,” Astrid said. The Doctor turned his head toward that sound and... there she was, sitting in a forklift, of all the insane and brilliant things in the universe. “I resign.”

He saw her reach down and shift the machine into gear, driving forward with little grace but much determination. It was wonderful and amazing and far too dangerous. The Doctor yelled out for her to stop, but she ignored him. How had the mad woman gotten down here? Unexplained miracles were something that he'd come to expect from Rose, but normal people generally had to have reasons of some kind.

Then he spotted it – the blue glow of a teleport bracelet around her wrist. They'd made it to Reception One, then, which was a relief, even she'd decided to be stupidly brave afterwards.

She slid the tines of the forklift directly under Max Capricorn's life-support machine and lifted him up off the ground – the man was in such a clear state of shock that he didn't even call for the Host to kill her. She was pushing down on the accelerator as hard as she could and didn't seem to be getting anywhere. The Doctor saw one of the Host coming up behind her and struggled as hard as he could to get loose, but he failed again and he could only watch as it took off its halo and threw it at her.

It missed her, barely, but when the weapon glanced off, it cut the brake line for her forklift. She wouldn't be able to _stop_ her momentum if she actually managed to start forward.

Uselessly, time slowed, but all the tricks of a Time Lord couldn't help him now. He was useless as she glanced in his direction, and she was afraid – oh, he could see how horribly afraid she was – but she wasn't going to let that stop her. He tried, one last time, to beg her not to do this, but she turned away from him.

Capricorn's machine finally lifted up and started getting pushed backwards. The pair of machines crashed into the railing and – it seemed to happen so slowly – they tipped over the side and he could barely hear both of them screaming over his own cry.

As soon as Capricorn went over, the Hosts' grips on him loosened and the Doctor finally pulled himself free, rushing over to the side of the balcony, hoping that she'd found some kind of hold on the side and that she'd managed to get herself out of that forklift in time.

There she was, falling away, reaching out for him.

And he couldn't reach back. She was already too far. All he could do was watch as the fires of the nuclear storm engines swallowed her up in yellow and orange.

He'd lost her.

The warning systems of the Titanic kicked in, reminding him that he didn't even have the time to grieve for her or for any of the others that he'd lost on this ship. He still had to get to the bridge, where Rose was waiting for him, and he had to keep the ship from hitting the Earth and killing all those people.

The Host had released him as soon as Capricorn had fallen – that meant that they were bound to him by his authority and not by any true programmed loyalty. And that meant that, with Capricorn out of the picture, they were free to the highest bidder.

Or, more correctly, the person who exuded the most pure power. He might not have been able to stop Astrid's death or any of the rest of the horror that had happened on this ship, but he could feel his very essence racing through his blood, filling him up with enough authority that all he had to do was gesture at them and they obeyed.

He strode forward until he was directly under where the bridge should be, raised up his arms, and snapped his fingers. Obediently, two of the Host took him by the arms and levitated him upward.

As they flew up, the Host lifted up their other hands into fists and the Doctor hoped that Rose and Mr. Frame were ready for a bit of a bang.


	8. In which there's a reunion.

She should probably be paying more attention to exactly what Alonzo was doing right now. They'd heard something of a worrying warning a minute or so back and Alonzo was loudly afraid that the ship would crash. He seemed to be doing a masterful job of whatever it was that he was doing with the controls, though, so Rose had decided not to worry about it, as he was doing enough for the both of them.

She was too busy being concerned about the fact that her vision had gone the slightest bit blurry. She'd always had excellent eyesight, so she was pretty sure that this was a bad sign. The last time she'd glanced down at her stomach, there had been a tinge of red against the white, so either she was still bleeding or she was hallucinating.

She was fairly certain that neither of those were positive signs.

The last thing that she'd been able to help with was getting Astrid the power to teleport down to the Doctor – that was one good thing, at least. Alonzo was very talented at his job, so there was another thing.

There was the Doctor. Whatever he was doing down on Deck 31 would be done in order to save the rest of the people on this ship and to stop it from crashing into the Earth and hurting anyone there. And the Doctor was very good. If it was possible to save this ship, then he would.

There was a rumbling vibration just under their feet and she heard Alonzo say, with great frustration, “Now what?”

And then, right in front of their eyes, the Doctor burst up through the floor, two of the Host flanking him. Rose let her head fall back against the console she was sitting up against, and she laughed out loud. Her tension faded away, as if it had never been, and she looked straight at the Doctor, her smile so wide that it hurt her face.

His gaze was locked on hers, his return smile broad and relieved. He pulled himself the rest of the way out of the floor with a couple of quick, jerky motions.

“Everyone all right here?” he asked. Rose just smiled over at him, helplessly, and she heard Alonzo ask what was going on, great confusion in his voice. The Doctor pulled his concentration away from her and hurried over to the console one over from where she was and started quickly turning dials and flipping switches. “It's wonderful to see you again, Rose. Midshipman Frame! It's a pleasure. Now, let's get this ship back to where she belongs.”

He hopped over to another panel and made some changes to that system too – Rose couldn't tell what he was doing, but he seemed very certain that it would work. Rose levered herself up on the panel while the Doctor was busy doing all that. He would notice her injury soon enough, but she couldn't really afford to have him get distracted at this precise moment in time.

“You can't,” Alonzo protested, picking himself up out of the rubble and putting his hands on his hips. “There's no power. There's nothing we can do. The ship's gone.”

The Doctor chuckled as he made his way to the main wheel of the ship.

“Never say never, Alonzo,” Rose said, merrily. The Doctor let out a startled laugh and glanced over at Alonzo.

“You're not?” he asked in delight. Alonzo nodded, still looking pretty confused. “Well, allons-y, Alonzo!”

The Doctor turned the wheel sharply and the ship turned with him. Rose gripped tightly to the panel she'd attached herself to, wincing as her belly tightened with the movement. Not good, she thought, definitely not good.

But the Doctor was doing very well, she noticed as she looked over at him – his face was tight and tense as he steered the ship, but very determined. One of the consoles started beeping and she glanced down to notice that it said they were dipping into the danger zone of the atmosphere. Alonzo also seemed to have heard the beeping, because he started screaming as he held onto the ship with a death-grip.

The light in front of them turned red as they dipped into real air and parts of the ship started to burn up right in front of her eyes. It was actually quite beautiful. Then they were past that bit and she could actually see the Earth in front of them – she would almost swear that she could see England itself, but that was probably just arrogance. There was no reason to assume that the ship would hit in her country.

Except for, well... the Slitheen. And the Sycorax. And...

Well, maybe there were _some_ reasons to assume that.

There was more buzzing and such going on, but Rose was starting to get pretty tired of standing up. The Doctor would probably just think that she was being smart if she went ahead and let herself slid down the console and lean against it as the ship hurtled downward.

She went ahead and did just that, smiling as she heard the Doctor's voice – he was probably saying something vitally important, she was sure, but it was taking all of her concentration to hold onto the bit of ship that she was leaning against, so she focused on that.

Then she couldn't help herself from sliding backward as the Doctor pulled back hard on the wheel. Her shoulders slammed up against the railing at the back of the bridge and she bit back on a yelp of pain. Alonzo had also been thrown back, but he was just about managing to hold himself upright.

Wind rushed past her and when she reached down to clasp at her stomach, it was wet again. But she wrapped her other arm around the railing behind her and held on, looking ahead at where the Doctor was, still yanking back on the controls, still saving the planet.

She was glad that she was here to see this.

And then... they were leveling out. He'd done it. Rose let out a shaky breath. He'd stabilized the ship and stopped their fall. She could see him turning the wheel again, freely and easily, and he laughed, that happy and relieved laughter of having survived yet another of their adventures.

Another moment, then he turned around, letting go of the wheel. They were safe, then, and Rose could relax. He was grinning and it was gorgeous.

Then his eyes dropped down and she could tell the exact moment that he saw the blood. His face paled, all of the laughter and joy that had been there moments ago gone as if he'd never felt them. She desperately wanted them back again.

“You're hurt,” he said and it wasn't like him to make such obvious comments, so Rose just smiled up at him. His face scrunched up a bit and he dropped to his knees next to her, his shaking fingers reaching out to touch her hand where it covered the bandage. “What happened?”

“The captain shot her,” Alonzo said. Rose shot him an indignant glare, but he refused to look shamed. “She said not to distract you with it, sir.”

The Doctor hadn't yet looked away from where his hand touched hers. “Taking care of you is never a distraction,” he said, softly. “If you're injured, Rose, I need to know. It needs to be part of my plans. How badly are you hurt? How long have you been bleeding?”

“Since before the meteoroids hit,” Alonzo offered. The Doctor's mouth tightened. He reached out and clicked his fingers and one of the Host pulled itself out of the hole in the deck.

“You are going to very carefully pick up this woman so that she is not injured further,” the Doctor said. He lifted his hand away from Rose's and stood up, not looking her in the eyes. “You are going to carry her down to Reception One and you are going to be _very_ careful. Is that clear?”

“Information: she will be delivered with no further injury,” the Host said, but Rose couldn't help from flinching when it touched her.

“Doctor,” she said, wishing that she could do something to take away that horrible look on his face. “There were more important things to do than to worry about me.”

He looked at her now and she almost wished that he hadn't – his eyes were dark and cold. She'd never seen him look so old, not even... not even when she'd stopped him from shooting that Dalek, back with the first him. Not even when she'd held him after coming back.

“No,” he said, sharply. His hands moved in a hesitant gesture toward her, then he pulled them back, tightening his hands into fists. “Rose, there is _nothing_ -”

He broke off and looked away. She tried to breath evenly. The Host gathered her up into its arms and, as promised, she didn't feel a thing. She wrapped her arms around its neck for some stability, but she kept staring at the Doctor as the Host took her away.

He was such a skinny man, this second Doctor of hers, but until this moment, she had never seen him look small.

Her journey down to Reception One was smooth and easy – it also gave her a chance to look down and see how much damage had been done since the last time she'd checked. She was definitely bleeding through, but she'd just had a pretty heavy shake-up since the last time. She might have already been starting to heal until their entrance into the atmosphere tightened up her skin.

By the time she got down there, the Doctor was already there, muttering as he puttered around with a control panel. He must have taken a quicker, but bumpier path down. He didn't look at her when she arrived, which was more than a little distressing.

“I'm coming right back,” he said to the older of the two blokes in the room with them. “I need to get Rose settled, but there's something else that I can do here.”

“Doctor, I'm not sure if it's the best idea,” the man said, looking fretful.

The Doctor just walked away from him and over to her. He snapped a bracelet around her wrist, one around the Host's wrist, and then one around his own.

“I've got these worked out to take us as close to the TARDIS as possible, but the Host will carry you right into the medical bay, where I'll take a look at that injury,” he said.

“Doctor,” Rose said, quietly.

“Mr. Copper, now would be good,” the Doctor said, turning his head toward the other man. A button was pushed over on the control panel and Rose found herself surrounded in blue as they teleported down to the planet.

They landed in a field covered in white – had it snowed while they'd been in the Titanic?

But the Doctor didn't give her any time to ask questions. He headed off at a quick pace and the Host followed behind him, too far away for her to be able to have a conversation with him – and now, she could see the TARDIS in the distance.

He opened the door with quick, sharp gestures and Rose wished that she had any clue what was going on in his head. She'd expected him to be upset, of course, but why wouldn't he talk to her or even look at her?

When they got to the main medical room, he briskly ordered the Host to lay her down on the table and then he nodded toward the Host, which turned about and left the room.

He took out a small device that she'd never seen before and placed it on the high counter next to the table, but he didn't turn to her right away. Instead, he leaned forward against the counter and she could hear him breathing.

“Doctor,” she tried again. His shoulders tightened up and her heart ached. “Doctor, I just wanted to-”

“If I had known-” he said, cutting her off. He turned his head – not enough to look at her, but she could see his profile now, every sharp feature. “If you'd mentioned that you were hurt, I wouldn't have-”

He stopped again and she heard him take a slow, deep breath.

“We don't have time for that right now,” he said, turning around to face her. His glance briefly touched her face, but not long enough for her to read his expression – he was soon intently looking down at her bandage. He reached forward and carefully pulled up the edges of the outermost covering. He slowly pulled off all the layers of protection and then his fingers were on her skin and she shivered. From her angle, she couldn't see what the wound looked like, but his lips were pursed tightly.

He reached underneath the table that she was lying on and held up a tiny, blindingly white cloth so that she could see it. “This is going to clean you up,” he said. He bent forward and wiped it against her stomach and she winced a little – it was cold and it stung the slightest bit. “It does some sterilization as well,” he added.

After he was done, he carelessly dropped the bit of cloth on the floor – as he was doing that, she noticed that it wasn't white anymore, but red and brown. Then he took the device off of the counter and pressed it down against her stomach. He twisted a dial at the end and she heard a light buzzing sound and felt an odd, twisting pressure.

“That removed the small bit of ammunition that was inside you,” he told her, his words clipped. “Next, I'm going to give you something that's going to help you heal all that damaged tissue. Unfortunately, it's going to take time for you to fully recover, because you had that thing in you for... for quite a while before I was able to help you.”

He pulled something else out from under the counter, but she didn't get a chance to look at it before he was pressing it hard against her stomach – she felt the pressure, but there was no pain.

“You said that you would be willing to be my equal,” the Doctor said, more softly. His hand was laying flat against her and his fingers tightened against her skin. “Why didn't you trust me, Rose?”

Rose blinked – he'd got it all wrong. So completely wrong.

“I didn't want you to worry,” she said, reaching down and wrapping her hand around his. He was colder than normal and very still. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“You don't know that,” the Doctor said. “Perhaps that's even...”

“What, Doctor?”

“Words aren't simply words, not for me,” he said. Rose braced herself against the implication. “I told you that you would be as my equal. That I wouldn't make your choices for you. And you aren't even willing to give me the information that I need to make my own. How can we be equals if you don't trust me?”

“But I do,” she said, clutching at his hand, trying to fight away the rush of panic that was sweeping over her. He _had_ to know that she trusted him. How could he not? “Maybe... maybe I've picked up some bad habits from my time with Torchwood, but that doesn't mean that I don't trust you.”

He still wasn't looking at her but he hadn't pulled away.

“I wouldn't have abandoned them,” he said, quietly. A small, shocked breath escaped Rose. “You used to believe that I was a better man than that. Do I have to prove myself to you?”

“Doctor-”

“If that's what you need,” he continued, his voice tight but calm. “If you need me to show you that, then I will. But as long as you don't trust me, we can't be equals, Rose. You've placed me beneath you.”

“No. That's not what I _meant_ ,” she protested and he slid his hand out from under hers and unsnapped the teleportation bracelet and took it off her wrist.

“You're safe for the moment,” he said, slipping the bracelet into one of his pockets. “I have something that I need to do back on the ship and then we'll see if we can find Martha and her family. There's Christmas dinner, still.”

“Doctor,” Rose tried, again. He paused in the middle of turning away from her. She could see his lower lip tremble for a second before he firmed it up. “You can't walk away without letting me explain.”

“You didn't want to worry me,” he said, tonelessly. “Is that right or is what you told Midshipman Frame more accurate? I'm not-”

His voice had started to rise in pitch toward the end, when he cut himself off. He rested one hand against the table, still half-turned away from her.

“We'll talk about this more later,” he said, in a more even tone, though she could hear hints of strain underneath the surface. “But I don't have time right now – there's something that I need to do on the Titanic before the rescue crew from Sto arrives. I'm _sorry_ , Rose, but I need to go now.”

He walked away and she didn't call out again.

 _We can't be equals._

Was he just stating a fact or making a declaration? Was that the way his people divorced? Had she just managed the shortest marriage in history?

After that one blisteringly pained glance, he hadn't looked her in the eyes after finding out that she'd been hurt. He'd been so far away from her and only moving farther. But he'd said that they would be able to talk later. He'd said that... that he was willing to do what he needed to do to prove that she could trust him.

How could she convince him that she already did?


	9. In which there's a goodbye.

As soon as he stepped outside the doors of the TARDIS, he activated the teleport bracelets, bringing himself and the waiting Host back up to Reception One.

He placed the bracelets gently back into their case, keeping his mind focused on the problem at hand.

Mr. Copper hovered around him, asking him if he was really certain that he wanted to try this.

“If there's even the slightest chance that I can save her, I have to try,” the Doctor said.

Slade was over in the corner, still yammering away on that phone of his, talking about something that the Doctor didn't care to know.

Midshipman Frame was mucking about with one of the ship's consoles – if he was trying to repair the ship any further, the Doctor wished him luck with it. From what he'd been able to see, everything that was possible to fix had already been fixed.

The Doctor, of course, had a more important consideration in mind.

He snapped his fingers at Slade, who looked over quizzically. The Doctor held out his hand, trying not to let his exasperation show on his face. Slade's smirk returned and he pulled out the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, tossing it over with a graceful motion.

The Doctor strode over to the teleportation controls and pulled forward the signal that he'd double-checked to see was saved before he and Rose had teleported down to Earth. _That_ , right there, should be Astrid Peth and, if he was lucky enough, he might be able to reconstruct her from the compressed information in the beam.

“Mr. Copper, I need the emergency code for the teleport now,” he said, crouching down to resonate the inner wiring so that it would have that little bit more of a boost.

“I've been thinking about this, Doctor, and I'm not certain that it's the right thing to do,” Mr. Copper said doggedly, with a nervous look down toward the Doctor. The Doctor sat back on his heels and glanced up at Mr. Copper, narrowing his eyes as he considered which approach to take. "The damage that the ship has taken... I don't see how it can work."

“She saved all of us,” the Doctor said. “You owe her this.”

It worked – Mr. Copper hurried over to the controls and put in the code. Good, old-fashioned guilt. Almost always a winner.

The Doctor hauled out a mass of glowing wires out from the console and vibrated the frequencies to a higher setting, while behind him, he could hear Mr. Copper explain the basics of what he was doing to Midshipman Frame.

And... he'd done it!

He jumped up and turned around with a triumphant cry, watching as Astrid started to reform out of blue teleport particles.

Except she didn't finish. She glimmered and glowed and wasn't... wasn't quite back yet.

The Doctor turned back to the console, yanking out those wires and adjusting them a little bit more, just that little bit higher.

“I'm falling...”

That was Astrid's voice, repeating herself. Trapped in an endless cycle of her death. She wasn't fully reintegrating. The Doctor breathed a curse and re-calibrated the system with his sonic screwdriver. He turned to look at her and she was the same – still lost.

He turned back to the console and pushed the system to the very limits of the safety protocols – the controls sparked and sputtered, but Astrid showed no sign of conscious awareness.

Mr. Copper was trying to say something to him, but the Doctor brushed him away, dropping to his knees to reach inside the console to yank away the wiring for the safety override. If he could push it past that arbitrary ceiling, maybe he could get her back.

He looked down at the mass of wires in his hands – they'd become slightly tacky to the touch or... no... it was his hands that were sticky...

Ah.

No wonder Mr. Copper had been treating him a bit like a candidate for sectioning. His hands, everything but his fingertips, were still covered in Rose's blood. He blinked, the wires sliding out of his grip. It was odd, really, that he and Rose had been through so much together and she'd never been badly injured. On occasion, he'd been half out of his mind thinking that she was dead but she'd always come out of those situations with very little or no harm. He'd never needed to use the tissue regenerator with her before, so he hadn't been prepared for her sharp intake of breath when he'd pressed the small, organic device under her skin.

Human bodies were so very fragile, yet he'd never seen Rose's broken before now. She'd had on three layers of crude bandaging that had resulted in only barely scabbing over her wound – it had opened again when he'd cleaned it. Her beautiful red dress had been ripped open and stained beyond repair. He could only assume that young Frame had torn it when he'd gone to look at the damage.

One relatively small, ragged hole that had contained one tiny bullet that, if it had hit her just an inch or so higher, might have impacted some of her internal organs. If that had happened, she likely would have been dead before he ever reached the bridge.

He'd been too harsh with her; he'd been too brusque. He knew that.

He hadn't been able to think straight while in the same room with her. All he'd wanted to do was gather her up and push inside her mind, brand her to himself so that if... if she were hurt, then he would _know_ , because he would know everything about her, every moment of every day, not a thought passing through her mind without his knowledge.

And that would have been a greater violation of her than anything else imaginable.

She didn't trust him?

She was right not to do so – he'd told her that he wouldn't have abandoned Mr. Copper and the others, but hadn't told her the reason. That every action that he took carried with it the question – 'what would Rose think when she found out?' After the war, he'd been lost... a rudderless ship on an infinite sea with no sun or stars as guides. And then she'd shown him, back in that bunker in Utah, that she could make even a _Dalek_ question itself and so she had done the same to him. Because of her, he'd remembered to question everything he did. Some things were worth doing, even after he'd thought about the potential consequences; some things weren't. She reminded him to look until he saw the difference. And... that was good. It was better.

She made him better.

She always had. And the thought of losing her again, to something even more permanent than an alternate universe, was simply unthinkable. And yet, just by being Rose, she forced him to think about it. Rose wasn't the sort to sit quietly and wait – if it weren't for the fact that she probably _couldn't_ stand up right now, she'd have insisted on following him back to the ship.

Rose would continue wander off to investigate on her own. She would get herself into danger again – she did so with far more frequency than any other person he'd travelled with. Though, to be fair, she did also manage to get herself _out_ of danger more readily than any of his previous companions save, perhaps, Romana, who'd certainly been much more cautious. Rose threw herself into the line of fire without even a momentary hesitation. One day, she would likely get herself killed.

One day, the blood on his hands wouldn't be from saving her, but from failing to do so.

He blinked away the blurriness in his eyes and slowly pushed himself back to his feet, turning to look at Astrid's translucent figure.

There was nothing else in the console that he could adjust, nudge, or channel. He was pushing the machine beyond what it was normally capable of and it still wasn't enough. She was gone. He was holding a reflection of her here, but Astrid was already dead.

“Doctor,” Mr. Copper said and the Doctor wondered how many times the man had said it, while he'd stared down at his hands, insensible. “It's too late.”

“Stop me falling,” Astrid pleaded and her face... that look of uncertainty and fear drove straight to his core. Slowly, he stumbled toward her. She was barely even here at all – he could see everything through her body. He hadn't even gotten her half-way.

“The system was too badly damaged,” Mr. Copper said, coming up beside him. “She's just atoms, Doctor. An echo with a ghost of consciousness. She's... stardust.”

The Doctor moved forward again, placing himself right in front of Astrid. He said her name and... she could see him. He would swear to it – something of her still remained. But not enough.

He took that one more step and reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand – he could feel the crackle of the last gasps of the teleportation field holding her together. Her eyes cleared and there was a sparkle of life dancing there.

Or maybe that was just what he wanted to see.

He stroked his thumb along her face, feeling the too-smooth substance that, if he pushed hard enough, his hand would easily penetrate. He extended his mind, ever so slightly, and felt a yearning emptiness inside her – there was the rushing sensation of falling and a fading hope and one small wish that he could still grant.

“There's an old tradition,” he whispered and he leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a proper kiss. He could feel her pushing up into it, angling her head to get closer, a thought that had been inside her head that he hadn't quite realized the full extent of until now. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and gave Astrid her last request.

Then he pulled away from her – she'd stilled, that spark faded.

He looked down at his screwdriver, making one last adjustment for her. The blood on his hands had dried in the cool light of Astrid's shine and had started to flake off.

Rose deserved better than living with a bitter and worn-out old man. Astrid had deserved better than dying because of one.

“Goodbye, Astrid Peth,” he said, initiating the dissipation protocol that would let her atoms break apart. She shimmered, briefly, and then slowly disappeared away into nothing.

She'd never get to see any more of those alien worlds. He'd almost... he'd been tempted to leave the energy field active, to keep that tiny connection, that small echo of thought alive.

Even now, he wasn't certain that he'd made the right choice. Astrid had wanted to travel – she could have travelled forever.

But it wouldn't have been her, not in truth. Not anymore than Rose would still have been _Rose_ if he'd burned himself into her brain. Both of them would have been shadows of who they'd once been and... he'd had to run away from Rose to keep himself from doing that to her.

The fading memory of Astrid would have travelled forever, because of him, and she would have been alone.

No one should travel alone.

“The rescue ship is arriving in less than twenty minutes,” Frame said, breaking the silence. “They're digging out the records of Max Capricorn. Should be quite a story.”

“And they'll... want to talk to all of us, I suppose,” Mr. Copper said.

“I'd have thought so, yeah,” Frame confirmed.

The Doctor heard a shuffling sound – he turned his head to see Mr. Copper standing next to him.

“I think... one or two inconvenient truths might come to light,” Mr. Copper said. The Doctor nodded as he remembered Mr. Copper sharing the story of how he'd lied his way onto the Titanic. “Still, it's my own fault. And ten years in jail is better than dying.”

The Doctor parted his lips, not quite sure whether or not _this_ was the right choice, either, but before he could speak, Rickston Slade came up in front of him.

“Doctor?” the man looked... sincere. Possibly even humble. “I never said... thank you.”

Slade smiled, tightly but genuinely, and wrapped the Doctor up in a grateful hug. The Doctor breathed out in surprise, but before he could decided if he should return the gesture, Slade was pulling away.

“The funny thing is,” Slade continued. “I said Max Capricorn was falling apart. Just before the crash, I... sold all my shares, transferred them to his rivals. It's made me rich. What do you think of that?”

On balance, the Doctor thought that he was rather glad that he hadn't returned Slade's hug. Before he could tell him so, Slade's communicator rang out and he turned away to answer it. Probably off to make more credits out of pain.

“Of all of us to survive, he's not the one you would have chosen, is he?” Mr. Copper asked. The Doctor looked at the place where Astrid's specter had been and he thought of warm and generous Foon, brash and brave Morvin, and Bannakaffalatta, who finally took pride in who he was only moments before his death. And then there was Rickston Slade, who could walk into a disaster and come out of it still thinking of money. “But if you could choose, Doctor,” Mr. Copper continued. “if you decide who lives and who dies... that would make you a monster.”

And it wasn't... an accusation or a reprimand. It was just a statement. The Doctor looked over at Mr. Copper, with his small bandage on his head and the courage to say that he was willing to face up to the consequences of his choices.

This was a man who, perhaps, deserved a second chance.

“Mr. Copper,” the Doctor said, brushing against Mr. Copper's sleeve, leading him back to the resting place for the teleport bracelets. He tugged two bracelets out of the container and handed one of them to Mr. Copper. “I think that you deserve one of those.”

The look of surprise and delight on the man's face didn't make everything better but... it did help. The Doctor turned to the controls and set them for another journey to Earth. He turned around, to take one last time at this Titanic, and Midshipman Frame caught his eye. He saluted them and the Doctor smiled a bit as he returned the gesture. Then Mr. Copper activated the teleportation and they were once again in the field where the TARDIS had landed, bits of white swirling around their heads.

He tried to help Mr. Copper get some more accurate history as they walked toward the TARDIS – he hadn't yet decided exactly what should be done with Mr. Copper, truth be told. The man didn't deserve to rot in a jail for ten years, but he might draw the wrong kind of attention if left on his own. Still, he was an intelligent man and he could likely make his own way. As long as he didn't make people think he was insane by talking about 'Great France' and 'Hamerica'. Though, these days, that last might not be so inaccurate.

When they reached the TARDIS, the Doctor pressed a hand up against the steady wood, grateful to be home. When he'd brought Rose here, he'd been in too much of a hurry to appreciate just how brilliant his ship was, to survive all that and to be here, waiting for him.

“You know, between you and me,” Mr. Copper said. “I don't even think this snow is real.”

The Doctor looked up and blinked his eyes against the cold. There was no storm, just the clear star-speckled sky above.

“I think this is the ballast from the Titanic's salvage entering the atmosphere,” Mr. Copper continued.

“It's real enough,” the Doctor said. He'd gotten Rose back once before, on a night when the snow was just ash. He'd thought, that night, that he might have lost her, that she wouldn't have been able to handle the little bump of his regeneration. But she had. Rose had met and mastered every challenge that his life had ever thrown at her. He was the one who had fallen short, time and again. Perhaps, despite how much he had already changed for her, it was still his turn to bend that little bit further. “Real enough for dreaming and... for hoping.”

Maybe Mr. Copper wasn't the only man who could get a second chance today.

“So, I... I suppose you'll be off,” Mr. Copper said.

“No, not yet,” the Doctor said, turning to Mr. Copper with a smile. “Still have Christmas dinner with those friends of mine yet to do. Actually – why don't you come along with us? Have a proper celebration to get you settled into your new life.”

“I would be honored,” Mr. Copper said. “And grateful.”

“Rose is resting, so don't go off wandering,” the Doctor warned, then he unlocked the door of the TARDIS and opened it wide, welcoming the man inside. His smile widened when he heard the gasp as Mr. Copper crossed the threshold and stood in the control room.

“It's... it's bigger on the inside!”

“That's what people keep telling me but I just don't see it,” the Doctor said, following Mr. Copper inside and closing the door. He chuckled. “Take all the time that you need to adjust. I'll be right back.”

Despite everything that had happened thus far this Christmas, the Doctor had a good feeling about Mr. Copper's future. He gave the man a fleeting, warning glance and then headed off toward the medical bay.

Rose would be waiting.


	10. In which we finally have Christmas dinner with the Jones clan.

“How are you feeling?”

Rose slowly opened her eyes, trying to figure out if she was dreaming. It seemed to be the Doctor, all right, but his voice had gone gentle and... he was looking at her. He had a soft smile on his face and his eyes were warm and welcoming. All of the distance and coldness from earlier was just... gone and as glad as she was of that, it would be nice to know why.

He was still wearing the black tie that he'd put on for the Titanic but she had the chance to notice now, as she hadn't before, exactly how dusty and stained it was from his trip through the ship. She could see the line of his throat and there was a bit of dirt just to the right of his adam's apple.

“Better,” she said, shifting up a bit on the table so that she could take a closer look at him. His left sleeve had been torn and she could see the red-brown rust of blood on the side of his hand. She parted her lips, her hand twitching to reach out to him but still unsure whether or not she should. Would it be welcomed after the fight that they'd had earlier? Did she still know how to read him after eight years away from him?

“I invited one of the Titanic passengers to dinner with us, if that's all right with you,” he said. Was he asking her permission? Even the notion of him inviting another person on board was rather unprecedented – she'd had to push him into asking Sarah Jane along all those years ago. Of course, after a couple of years without her, she had to assume that he'd invited other people to travel with him – Martha, Jack, maybe others, though he probably didn't have time for too many others.

She did know that he'd told Reinette that he would take her on a trip. He'd mentioned that to her a couple of months afterwards, after Mickey had gone and they'd been on their own again.

“All right,” Rose said. “Who- who is it?”

“His name is Mr. Copper,” the Doctor said. His words released a tension that she hadn't been aware she'd been carrying – not that tiny blonde girl from earlier, then.

“And what's he called when he's at home?” Rose asked archly. The Doctor looked at her blankly. She sighed, trying and failing to move one of her legs off the table. “Does he have a first name?”

“Ah. I didn't ask,” the Doctor said, reaching up to tug at his ear. “Do you think I should've?”

“I will,” Rose promised. “Will... am I going to be all right for dinner? Will I be able to walk?”

“Oh, sure,” he said, perking up. “Should be right as rain in a few hours. Funny old expression 'right as rain'. Rain isn't particularly right, left, or wrong. It's just... wet. It sounds good, though, which is probably why it survives so long. Lots of sayings disappear within decades, but 'right as rain' lasts well into the sixty-first century, long after people have stopped talking about wetting their whistles or blue moons. Well... except on planets that _have_ blue moons. I should take you to one of those – Mua Six has a lovely blue moon. It's really more of a cyan, I suppose, but if you're in the city, the pollution makes it look like a much brighter and truer blue. Would you like that... to go to Mua Six?”

During his ramble, he wandered closer and closer to her, until he ended up perched on the high stool that was near the table. He took one of her hands between his and gave her a wide, hopeful smile.

“Maybe later,” Rose said, biting her lip. “Doctor – did you want to say anything else?”

He opened his mouth, looking eager.

“About what we were talking about earlier,” Rose clarified. He promptly shut his mouth, his expression turning vaguely sulky. He'd decided that he didn't want to talk, then, that he would prefer to sweep everything that he'd said under the rug and just move on. Well, Rose wasn't prepared to do that. “About you thinking that I don't trust you.”

“Not particularly,” he said. Even his hair seemed to be expressing his extreme disinterest in pursuing the subject.

“I do,” Rose said, firmly. “Doctor, you told me that I was gone for just over two years for you – is that right?”

“Yes, of course it is,” the Doctor said.

“You need to remember that, for me, I was away for _eight_ years,” Rose said. “I got used to handling things on my own. I got used to... not having a partner. It's not about trust, Doctor. It's about getting used to knowing that I have someone with me that I do trust, absolutely, because I didn't have that for eight years. It's going to take time for me to adjust, but that doesn't mean that I don't trust you.”

The Doctor nodded, looking thoughtful. One of his hands slid up to her wrist and began rubbing along the lines of the bracelet that he'd given her. It made her shiver, a bit.

“Didn't you have a team?” the Doctor asked, angling his head curiously.

“They weren't you,” Rose said, with a rueful shrug. “Not that they weren't great people and quite good at their jobs, but once you've travelled with a Time Lord... no one else quite compares.”

The Doctor's smirk was smug and annoying and very, very dear.

“Maybe I shouldn't have told you that,” Rose said, raising an eyebrow. His smirk only deepened and he leaned forward and lightly kissed her – just a quick, casual buss, but it left her blinking.

“You're really rather wonderful,” the Doctor said, with a beaming smile and a bit of a bounce as he sat back again. “If I haven't said recently.”

“I'm always open to compliments,” Rose said, lifting up one of his hands and kissing his palm. She could taste the slightly-iron taste of her blood there. She brought his hand down into her lap, tangling their fingers together. “So, we've determined that I trust you and, also, that I need to work on remembering to show you that. Anything else we should clear up?”

The Doctor hesitated, looking conflicted.

“Astrid Peth – she used to be one of the Titanic crew – she kissed me,” he said. “And... I think that she would have wanted to do more than that.”

“All right,” Rose said, tamping down that flash of jealousy – she remembered Astrid Peth calling up to the bridge to get that teleport bracelet working. She'd wanted to help the Doctor and that, at least, deserved respect. “Is... is that something that I should worry about?”

“She died,” the Doctor said, a shadow of pain crossing over his face. “She died to save us all.”

“I'm sorry,” Rose said, slightly awkwardly. She tightened her hand around the Doctor's. “She... she sounded nice. On the comm system.”

“She was,” the Doctor said. “She was very sweet.”

He looked down at their clasped hands. She didn't know exactly how to read his expression – there was sadness there, but also resignation, maybe, but it was hard to tell for sure. After a moment, the corner of his mouth kicked up in a tiny smile, which only confused the issue further.

“I wasn't sure what your policy is on that sort of thing,” he said.

“What sort of thing?” Rose asked, not sure what room she could have to complain about Astrid having been sweet. It's not like she could or would make all the people who lusted after the Doctor horrible people. She just... didn't particularly want him to be lusting back after them.

“Being kissed or... I suppose... kissing other people,” the Doctor said. “Initially, I had assumed that you _would_ mind, given your reaction to Sarah Jane, but then I remembered the way you used to flirt with Jack and Mickey-”

“Oh! That's just not fair!”

“So I thought perhaps not,” he finished, blinking at her innocently. She didn't buy it for a minute, but was willing to let it go for the sake of the peace. They were actually getting somewhere here and she didn't want to ruin that by changing the subject.

“What's... your policy?”

“Time Lord society was incredibly stuffy about romance and marriage and everything related to those subjects,” he said. It seemed a lot easier for him to talk about his people now – maybe it was related to seeing Koschei again and losing him. “I'm open to suggestions.”

“I'm going to say 'no' on the kissing other people issue,” Rose said, watching him carefully. He let out a tiny breath of relief, which was... good to know. “But considering how much of a delicate hothouse flower you are-”

“I am not!”

“I tend to believe that you were kissed rather than kissing,” Rose said.

“Ah. Well. The first time,” he said.

“There was a second time?” Rose asked, not quite able to push back her indignation.

“Sort of,” he said. “Not really. It depends on your philosophical beliefs.”

Rose opened her mouth and then gave the Doctor a considering look. She paused for a moment, giving him a good long stare. He just looked placidly back and whatever it was, it certainly wasn't something that he was feeling guilty about – he'd looked more guilty about the kiss that he'd said that Astrid had initiated.

“You know what,” she said, thoughtfully. “I don't want to know.”

“Are you sure about that?” And that was genuine curiosity there, which told her all that she needed to – maybe he'd kissed Astrid while she lay there dying or something equally heroic and she couldn't... she couldn't fault him for that. She might have done the same herself, in a similar situation or, say, with someone like Jack, who had fought so hard for all of them.

“Dead sure,” she said. “Let's just say that, from now on, there'll be no intentional kissing of other people.”

“Deal!” the Doctor said cheerfully, leaning forward to seal their arrangement with another soft, quick kiss. “It's good to clear things like that up. You didn't happen to... um...”

He trailed off and gave her an imploring look, his eyes wide and sad.

“I didn't,” Rose said, taking pity on him. He was worse at this than any other man she'd ever been with in a relationship. It was even sort of endearing, in a pathetic way. “For such an arrogant man, you're very insecure.”

“I'm not arrogant, just extremely good at a wide range of subjects,” the Doctor protested. “It's not arrogance if it's earned.”

Rose opened her mouth to tease him and ended up surprising herself when she yawned instead. It was loud and wide, popping her jaw a bit.

“Ah, your recovery period has been triggered,” the Doctor said, reaching up and stroking her hair – it was loose around her shoulders now, though she didn't remember when it had fallen down. He ran his fingers all the way through, several times, gently working out some small tangles. “You'll probably sleep now for a few hours and, when you wake, you'll be well enough to walk. Though I wouldn't recommend running.”

“I don't feel tired,” she told him and it was true – her head felt a bit fuzzy, but she wasn't sleepy. “And I want to talk to you about... very important things, Doctor.”

“I know,” he said, leaning over. She felt the cool brush of his lips on her forehead and she smiled without even really thinking about it, comforted by his touch. “Rest now, so that we can do that later.”

Rose squinted at him – he was looking fairly blurry now and she started to blink to clear her eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, the Doctor was gone. So, for that matter, was her dress – at least, the bit over her stomach that had been ripped and bloody had been very carefully cut off, so that her dress had become more a shirt and skirt. Rose reached down and shook out the skirt, watching some black flecks fall out and land on the smooth floor of the medical bay.

Before today, she hadn't really spent much time in this room – once, back in her first year on the TARDIS, Jack's arm had gotten sliced up after flirting with what had looked like a dinosaur. She'd hopped up over onto the counter and watched from there as the Doctor had casually run something over Jack's cut and declared him 'better', but she'd seen Jack wincing later. That was the only time she'd been in here before and she'd been distracted by Jack's joking around with her, so she hadn't really studied the room. It was larger than any doctor's office that she'd ever visited on Earth – not that she'd seen many – and while the simple white floor might have been at home in one of those doctors' offices, the green and golden bulges in the walls decidedly would not. There was the cushioned table in the center of the room, which had been much more comfortable that she would have guessed, stools of various heights on one side of the room and hundreds of different drawers built into the wall, of all sort of sizes and shapes.

Rose very slowly levered herself to the side and tried to ease herself to the ground, letting out a sigh of relief when her legs were willing to hold her up. She still felt a bit weak, but she wasn't going to fall over.

The cold temperature of the floor made her realize that her shoes had also been removed. She wiggled her toes and was thrilled to see and feel them respond. She glanced around but didn't see any sign of her missing footwear. Well, that was probably for the best. She'd need to change for dinner anyway, so she might as well go do that now.

She rested one hand on the wall as she walked, feeling supported not just physically, but emotionally. She could feel the hum of the ship through her fingertips and the rough texture of the walls helped her remember all over again that the Doctor's ship was alive. It was more than just a ship, it was a friend.

The way down to the wardrobe room was much shorter than it should be from where she'd started, so Rose breathed a soft 'thank you' to the TARDIS. Finding a comfortable set of clothes was also easy – right near the front of the room was a soft, knee-length skirt in black, with a cushy red top hanging up next to it. The top itself was supported, so she wouldn't even need to struggle with a bra which might, she had to admit, be beyond her at the moment. The clothes slipped on easily, with no fastenings to worry about and, in a small cubby, she saw a pair of dark slippers that looked close to perfect at the moment.

It had taken her over half an hour to get dressed, by her own guess. It wasn't hard to move, but everything just seemed to take so much longer than normal. It was a bit like being really, really sick, but without feeling nauseous or in pain.

“Ah, I hoped you'd found your way down here.”

Rose turned around and the Doctor was standing in the doorway – he was wearing a blue suit now, one that she'd never seen before.

“When did you get a new suit?” she asked.

“Do you like it?” he asked, bounding up to her, all boyish enthusiasm. Rose bit her lip and slowly looked him over – the color didn't match him as well as the brown one, but... well, it was the Doctor and he'd probably look good in anything. The suit was fitted very well and she had only barely resisted the urge to ask him to turn around so that she could get a rear view.

“It'll do.” She shrugged, a teasing smile on her face.

“Is that all?” he asked.

In answer, Rose reached out toward the sharp lapels of his new suit and tugged him down toward her, claiming his mouth. Like all of their kisses, it was still relatively chaste, yet her heart thrummed in her chest. She dared to lick her tongue along the boundary of his mouth and his lips parted obediently. She pressed closer, her body humming everywhere that it touched his. She could feel one of his hands spread out on her back, holding her closer yet and his other hand cupped the back of her neck. His own tongue had just started to respond when a loud cough startled both of them.

“Took you long enough,” the man – presumably Mr. Copper – said. It was the older man that she remembered seeing on the bridge before the Doctor had taken her down to the TARDIS. “That's the third time I've tried to get your attention.”

“I'm sorry,” Rose said. She pulled away from the Doctor a bit and smiled at Mr. Copper. “It's lovely to properly meet you. I'm Rose Tyler.”

“What a beautiful name,” Mr. Copper said. “I'm Beatifimus Copper, lately of Sto. I believe that your Doctor said that you're from my new home, Earth?”

“I was born there,” Rose said. “But my home is here on the TARDIS.”

“Now, I know that the Doctor said that word earlier, but what exactly is it?” Mr. Copper asked, blinking. Rose glanced over at the Doctor, biting her lip hopefully. He waved her on, a soft smile on his face.

“That's the name of the Doctor's ship,” she said. “T-A-R-D-I-S. It stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space.”

“Did you say _time_?” Mr. Copper asked. “Time Lord isn't just a title?”

“Isn't just a what?” the Doctor squawked. “Of course, it isn't _just a title_. I travel in time and space. What did you think that 'Time Lord' meant?”

“Oh, I just assumed that it was one of those nonsense titles that nobility gave themselves,” Mr. Copper said, vaguely. Rose didn't bother to hide her giggles. The Doctor glared at her and she laughed harder. “I'm sorry for assuming that.”

“Don't worry about it,” Rose said, once she'd gotten herself under control. “Now, sir, do you prefer to be called 'Mr. Copper'?”

“Oh my vot, I don't know...” the man paused, looking thoughtful. Rose wrinkled her nose – had he really said 'vot'? She'd have to ask the Doctor about that later, when they had more time. “My sister used to call me Beatty. I rather miss it.”

“Well, Beatty, the Doctor and I were planning to be going to a friend's for dinner – if the Doctor hasn't already invited you, I am,” Rose said, reaching up to fiddle with an earring, only to notice that she hadn't put any on. She changed the gesture into one of tucking her hair behind her ear and tried to figure out exactly when she'd lost her earrings. The Doctor must have taken them out while she'd been asleep.

“I'm looking forward to a genuine Christmas dinner very much,” Beatty said. “It's all quite exciting for me! I love travelling and the Doctor saved me from... from quite an awful fate.”

“Yeah,” Rose said, turning back to the Doctor and placing her hand into his. “He does that a lot.”

The Doctor smiled at her and tugged on her hand, pulling her forward to share another tiny kiss, his nose brushing against hers when he leaned back again. “Shall we?” he asked, looking over at Beatty.

“Indeed!” Beatty laughed out loud. “Lead the way!”

As they walked toward the exit, Rose tilted her head toward the Doctor and lowered her voice, “How close are we to Martha's?”

“Just outside her door,” he said, smugly.

“Did you check?” Rose asked. “Because you said you were certain last time and we were in the middle of Hyde Park. Which, let me remind you, is _not_ where Martha lives.”

“Yes, I looked outside and checked,” he said, his smugness fading slightly. Rose swung their hands once and he chuckled. When they reached the TARDIS door, the Doctor made a point of skipping forward, opening the door theatrically and ushering the two of them through it. Once they were out, he took Rose's hand again.

Rose looked at the neighborhood around them and let out a low whistle. Martha's folks had a properly-built house, with a wall and a gate and everything. Rose couldn't imagine what that must be like, to live in that sort of place, where you didn't have a neighbor living right against the wall next to you – Rose couldn't count the number of times she'd heard arguments through the walls of her mum's place or Mickey's. Or the memorable occasions when, at Mickey's, they'd shagged loudly enough to have earned his next-door neighbor banging on the wall to try to make them stop or quiet down.

The Doctor pressed the buzzer at the front door and a middle-aged lady, probably the same age as Mum was now, answered the door. She had to be Martha's mum or maybe an aunt – apart from skin color, they had some similar facial features. She had some lovely curly hair, too.

“Mrs. Jones!” the Doctor said, cheerfully. “Here I am!”

“Hmph,” the woman confirmed as Martha's mum said. “She wasn't expecting you to actually show up.”

“Oh,” the Doctor said, deflating. “She wasn't?”

“She hoped, though,” Mrs. Jones admitted. She looked over at Rose and Rose fought the urge to squirm under the woman's attention – the look on her face was oddly reminiscent of the women who would come into Henrik's and treat Rose like she didn't matter because she was just staff. “You must be Rose.”

She sounded rather like she was hoping that she was wrong.

“You're here!” came a squeal from inside. Martha popped out from around her mother and she pounced on the Doctor with a tight hug. He was laughing as he hugged her back. As soon as she released the Doctor, she wrapped herself around Rose. “I'm so glad you came,” she whispered in Rose's ear. “I'm just bursting with news.”

She pulled away and Rose finally got a good look at her – she was fairly glowing and she looked absolutely gorgeous. Her hair was down around her shoulders and she had on a simple and elegant black dress that showed off her truly enviable figure.

“Who's your friend?” Martha asked.

“Ah,” the Doctor said. “This is my good friend Beatifimus Copper, also known as Beatty. He was of great help for me in the latest Christmas disaster. Beatty, this is my dear friend Martha and her... very strong mother, Francine Jones.”

“That was about the replica of the Titanic that almost fell on London?” Martha asked, looking faintly jealous.

“You could tell that it was the Titanic from here?” he asked, bemused. “Well-spotted.”

“We guessed that you were involved in that,” Mrs. Jones said, but... she was a bit amused, too. “Martha assured us that you would save us all from death and destruction.”

“And so I did,” the Doctor said, pushing past her into the house. Mrs. Jones stared after him and Rose made sure to reach out to touch her arm reassuringly when she went inside, and Mrs. Jones rolled her eyes and then smiled reluctantly.

“Everyone here knows about the Doctor,” she said to Rose. “So, none of you have to be careful about what you say.”

“Thank you very much for having us,” Rose said, following Mrs. Jones into the room – in short order, she was introduced to Martha's father, Clive, her sister Tish, and her brother Leo.

They were short one place at the table, but Mrs. Jones soon sorted that out with an extra chair from the hallway and they were seated down at Mr. Copper's very first Christmas dinner – a fact that he pointed out to the table proudly, which helped start a discussion right off the bat.

And it gave Rose the chance to turn to the Doctor, who was sitting next to her, and mouth, “I love you,” to him. He smiled back at her, reaching out to briefly squeeze her hand under the table.

Then they turned back to their Christmas dinner and the Jones clan and a lot of laughter.

After the dinner, Martha tugged Rose off to the side. She seemed just about ready to explode.

"You said you had news," Rose said. "Did you not want to say it in front of the Doctor?"

Martha dimmed slightly. "Things with the Doctor are... still a bit odd," she said. "I mean, I _like_ you, Rose, so much more than I was expecting to, but I'm not in the right place to tell him this. Not yet. Soon, I hope."

"What is it?" Rose asked.

"I've been seeing this bloke, ever since I came back," Martha said. Then she paused for a moment and shook her head. "Well, I actually met him before that, but it happened during that year that never happened, so he doesn't remember it. But I remembered him and how brave he was, so I looked him up. We've been going out since then and... he's asked me to marry him."

"That's wonderful," Rose asked. Martha looked off to the side, less enthusiastic than before. "Isn't it?"

"It is," she said. "And I've told him 'yes' but I wanted..."

"Wanted what?" Rose asked.

"To ask you how you knew... that the Doctor was the right bloke for you," Martha said. "You waited for _years_ for him in that parallel world."

"But I didn't," Rose said. "I mean, yes, I waited over four years and then... I gave up. I dated another man and very nearly married him."

"You didn't, though," Martha said, looking down at her hands. Rose could see her ring, now, sparkling on her left hand. "What made you realize that... no matter what... the Doctor was the only man that you wanted?"

"Mark was a good man," Rose said. She smiled, a little wistfully. "Probably better than I deserved, especially at the time. I was so angry, Martha. For two years, I was furious at... at everything. At the universe for keeping us apart. At my father for saving me. At everyone who told me to give up on finding the Doctor ever again."

Rose hesitated and Martha reached down and grabbed her hands. Rose smiled slightly despite herself, glad that the Doctor had known such a good person while Rose had been gone.

"I was angry at the Doctor," Rose said, softly. "Because he didn't even try. He said it was impossible and I knew that meant that he wouldn't even _try_. I loved him so much and he... he couldn't say the words back. Not back then."

"But it's obvious how much he loves you," Martha said. "Long before I'd ever met you, I knew that much."

"I never doubted that he did," Rose said. "But I was a twenty-one year-old girl. It would have been nice to hear it."

"You were that young?" Martha asked, sounding half-way between dubious and horrified. Rose laughed.

"I was nineteen the first time that the Doctor kissed me," she said. She was glad that she could remember that now, however faint the memory still felt at times. "Of course, that was to save my life."

"Yeah," Martha said, with a snort. "The first time we met, he kissed me to fool a bunch of Judoon that were out for alien fugitives."

"He does a lot of kissing, this regeneration," Rose mused.

"I can't say that I objected," Martha said, with a guilty smile. "But that doesn't... that doesn't answer my question - how did you _know_ that he was the right one?"

"Because, even when I hated him," Rose said, tightening her grip on Martha's hands. "Even when I was so mad at him that I could have gladly hit him over the head with one of his mallets, I still knew that I wanted to be with him. A miserable time with the Doctor - like one of the many times we got imprisoned in some dank cell - was still more memorable and enjoyable than anything I ever did with anyone else. Sometimes... most of the time... I feel like my life didn't really begin until he reached out and took my hand in his. Since then, the TARDIS has become my home and his life... it's not everything I ever wanted. It's _more_. It's everything that I never even tried dreaming that I could have. If you're asking how I knew he was the right man because you want to know if your... what's his name?"

"Tom," Martha whispered.

"Because you want to know if your Tom is the 'right' man for you, I don't think I can answer that," Rose said. "I don't even know if I believe that it's true that there _is_ a single right person. I know that the Doctor makes my heart beat faster, but other men have done that. The Doctor makes life enjoyable, but other men have done _that_ , too. I don't know. I look at him and... I can imagine spending the rest of my life with him and it doesn't matter if we're chasing aliens or travelling to distant planets or just... lying on the grass having a laugh. If it's with him, then I'm going to love it. So, I suppose that I'd ask you that - even when everything is going horribly, do you still want to be with him?"

Martha looked up at Rose, a glorious smile blooming on her face.

" _Yes_ ," she said, with deep certainty. "If the whole world had gone to hell, I would want him by my side."

"Then that's your answer," Rose said. "Someone that you still want to be with in the worst times... and who feels the same way about you... that's a person worth hanging onto - no matter what."

Rose looked down at their clasped hands - Martha with her ring on her finger and Rose with her bracelet around her wrist. Having a visible reminder of another person's love was... comforting, Rose had to admit.

"Thank you," Martha said, softly.

"You're welcome," Rose said. "Just remember to invite us to the wedding."

Martha laughed and Rose joined her. Then, they made their way back to the main group. Rose caught the Doctor's eye and he hurried over to her.

"Nothing's wrong, I trust," he said, looking slightly worried.

"Nothing's wrong," Rose reassured him and then she impulsively hugged him. She buried her head against his shoulder, inhaling deeply, just trying to capture this moment with him. When she lifted her head again, a flash of motion caught her eye - out the window, on the street, there was the blonde woman from before all this had started, the one that had warned her. She slowly placed a finger over her lips, smiled, and then turned and walked down the street, out of sight. Rose frowned slightly, but she'd be in no condition to run after the woman like this... and the Doctor would tell her not to muck about with timelines, so there wasn't much she could do right now.

So, she forced herself to let it go for the moment and turned back to the Doctor with a smile.

After all, the woman had promised that they would meet again.

Sometime in Rose's future.

_the end_


End file.
